Splinters
by Natalie Nallareet
Summary: Sherlock may be a disguise for the Doctor, but when Jim Moriarty manages to crack the God Code the game is far from over. The universe has splintered into billions of shards, and the Doctors, their companions, and plenty of crossover characters clump together in their effort to stop the psychopathy, and fix reality back into one piece. Sequal to The Pocket Watch.
1. Chapter 1

**A/C: **_After several requests and a few rapid plot bunnies, I've decided to write a sequel to The Pocket Watch, ( s/7636598/1/The_Pocket_Watch ) a Wholock fic that's rather important to read for confusion sake, before you go onto this. Although in this fanfic several additions makes this a Superwholock Pressure crossover (Doctor Who, BBC Sherlock, Supernatural, and Cabin Pressure, with the possibility of some original Holmes in one chapter), **but I will make sure it's explains enough so it's possible to read this while just being a wholock fan, so don't worry if you're just here for the Pocket Watch sequel. **There will be plenty of ships (too many to name and pinpoint at this point) that include cannon, slash, and fem!slash, along with many crossover ships! Point of views will vary for the story's sake, but mainly it will be John Watson from after The Pocket Watch._

_Torchwood, Lestrade, Mycroft, the Twelfth Doctor, and the Ponds come from after Pocket Watch. BBC Sherlock, Eleventh Doctor, characters not seen in Pocket Watch come from after Sherlock returns from his 3 year wait. Eleventh Doctor and Molly Hooper come from reality where they're companions after the Ponds die. Nineth Doctor and Rose come from after Father's day. Ten and Donna come from after Turn Left. Supernatural characters come after Hello, Cruel world. Cabin Pressure comes after third season. And I'll explain River's point in time when that chapter comes around._

_**Story description: **The game's never over for Jim Moriarty, even after learning that Sherlock was just a disguise for the Doctor he took his plans up to a whole new lever. After years and years of research, the psychopathy finally managed to crack the God Code. With his new power, he splinters all of reality. Now as the Doctors, companions, and crossover characters are clomped together, they struggle to put reality back into one piece._

_**Warning: **Lots of character deaths.  
_

_**Update regularly:** A chapter every weekend._

**Rated T:** _For character deaths, romance, and awesomeness_

**This chapters pov: **_Torchwood!John Watson from the Pocket Watch_

* * *

It was brilliant, the lot of it—completely different from my life at 221b, but another whole battle field. Complete with weevils, fish-headed men, and a ton of people pouring in and out of the crack in time. According to everyone else at Torchwood, it usually wasn't this active. Even some friends of Jack, Martha and Mickey had been called in. But that was fine with me.

"I need everyone at the hub now!" Jack called to us through the com unit that was sitting next to us on the table.

I sighed into my coffee mug, unwilling to leave the cozy cafe where Ianto and I went to every morning before heading over to Torchwood.

"Well, I guess we should get back," Ianto murmured, grabbing his coat from the back of his seat.

"Yeah," I smiled, gathered my own stuff. "Another day at Torchwood." We walked across the street and into the hub. Even before we entered the roll away door, we could feel the height emanating from the hub

"It's gonna blow!" Jack howled, fidgeting with some machinery attached to the side of the center cylinder. "I can't stop it!"

Ianto and I hurried over to help him. But I had no idea what to do. The cylinder was glowing, cracks beginning to form in the glass that had stayed unaffected through the week from all the other errors of the rift.

"Jack, we need to get out of here!" Gwen cried out, her eyes glued to the computer screen even as she grabbed the coat. "I've never seen the rift this active... It's splintering! Across the whole planet!" Suddenly the cracks split the casing protecting the rift, light blinding the room. A series of bangs that sounded oddly like light bulbs breaking filled the hub. The world shook beneath my feet. Crashing to the ground, I braced my head as I smashed up against a desk. Something fell on my stomach, but not heavy enough to keep me down.

I sat up hastily, my head aching. What the heck...? The dust cleared, the light disappearing suddenly. The hub was a complete disaster. The desks and equipment was turned over and thrown about, the papers burnt, and we all lay scattered about.

"Is everyone alright?" I called out, managing to stand and rush over to Ianto who was closest.

"Fine," Ianto coughed, standing up. "Jack?"

"Present!" Jack called out from behind a turned over desk, his head popping up above it.

"We're alright!" Martha nodded, standing and offering Mickey a hand.

Everyone panted for a moment of silence. But that wasn't right... that wasn't everyone.

"Gwen?" Ianto asked into the silence.

No response.

"Gwen?" I echoed, pretending that would help. We searched through the hub in silence, because we knew how to act as a team, and were trying to pretend that she wasn't closest to the explosion when it happened-that there wasn't an all too reasonable explanation for her lack of answer.

"Oh god," I murmured as I found Gwen. Her body was hidden under a pile of computers, her body singed. I couldn't find her pulse.

"Is she...?" Jack asked apprehensively.

I shook my head, silent tears running down my face. I hadn't known her for long, but she had been so kind, welcoming. A great person and a remarkable friend.

"Gwen..." Jack bit his lip, tears rolling down his cheek as well. Again, no one uttered a word as we silently mourned her. Finally Jack stood up rigidly, his face stoney. "John, we need the doctor here. Time and space just literally splintered. I don't think that's even fixable."

Hastily I nodded. He had kidded before about calling the Doctor up for tea, or an outbreak of weevils-but Jack couldn't be more series right now. The number was so hauntingly familiar. I couldn't think about my life with Sherlock... couldn't think about the brilliant, amazing man who had just been a disguise the entire time. An imaginary cover who had lived, fought his own battles, solved his own cases, and-according to the Doctor he turned into-loved me. But no, I couldn't think about that, because that life didn't exist anymore-this is what I had.

"Hello?" the Doctor answered, god, even his voice was the same, I had somehow forgot that part. The TARDIS made a whooshing noise behind him, and I could make out Amy's voice chatting on about something. As much as I missed him, wanted my old life back desperately, I never regretted not going off with the Doctor. Too many memories just out of reach.

"Doctor!" I greeted, my voice slightly husky from the crying. "It's John. All of time and space has just splintered, could really use your help down here."

"Really?" his voice buzzed with the energy of a new case, a new adventure. "Wow, we'll be right there!"

"He's coming," I told the others hollowly, my voice faltering slightly as I hung up.

"The universe is cracked," Jack broke in, his hard glare still in place. "We need to bury her properly while there's still time."

I hauled her into my arms, her seared face already looking pale in the dim light. Ianto carried out a pile of shovels. An odd parade of five, we walked up, and outside. It was still so normal outside, the sun shining, the people walking outside-No, that wasn't quite right, there was people certainly, but they kept blinking out a block or so away, like lights in the center of a storm. If time really was splintered, they could have been transported any time, any place. But I couldn't concentrate on that.

Setting her body down gently, I grabbed a shovel from Ianto and joined the rest digging a hole to bury her in.

"You traveled with the Doctor then?" Martha asked, obviously trying to find something, anything to talk about other then Gwen or our task ahead.

"Not quite. He hid away as someone else through a-" I started.

"Pocket watch?" she guessed, her eyes sparkling with memory. "He used one of those while I was traveling with him. But, if you knew him while he was using that device, why did he leave you his number? Last time the Doctor did that, he fell in love with a woman and didn't give her a second glance after returning to himself."

"Really?" I murmured, shrugging. "I guess I dunno why he kept in touch with me then." I wiped the beads of sweat off my forehead as we dug the hole deep enough between the five of us. "I think this looks deep enough." Some nods followed my remark and we hoisted each other out of the hole.

"The regular phone service is down," Jack murmured, as we lowered her body down. "I tried to call Rhys..." An awkward silence followed his words. That's right, Gwen was the only one who had a life out of Torchwood, the only one with a husband, with future kids. Still without a word we covered her up with dirt, the shovels heavy in our hands.

"Gwen, was a brilliant, kind, person. The best friend, colleague, and reminded us what is meant to be human. She will always be missed, and we'd never have been able to get on without her," Ianto said hoarsely, silent tears pouring down his face. Even as he spoke the TARDIS's brakes could be heard from a block away. Our time was almost up. Time... it seemed rather irrelevant while it was splintered.

"Thank you, Gwen," Jack whispered into the ground, his head hung. This time no one rushed to the TARDIS's noise, and we were all still standing solemnly when he arrived.

"Hello everyone!" the Doctor started all too cheerfully, rather breathlessly. "Oh."

"Doctor," Jack breathed, wrapping his arms around our old friend. "You came."

"Of course I came! I always come. Nasty piece of work we have, though, entire time splintered? Martha! Mickey! One big party, eh?" the Doctor walked over, giving the two a hug. "Oh, another new face, that must be discerning. How have you been managing?"

"Great!" Mickey smiled, as Martha showed off a ring on her finger.

"Oh, you're engaged! Congratulations!" the Doctor sputtered. "That's fantastic! John, there you are!" He wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug.

"Doctor it's so great to see you again," I murmured. "Thanks for coming."

"Any time! How's Torchwood?" He asked, pulling out of the hug.

"Great! Nothing like with Sherlock, but..." I shrugged, and smiled at Jack, who was still staring at Gwen's grave mournfully. "How have you been? The leg holding up?

"That? It's fine, so am I," the Doctor smiled, that brilliant smile that only I could have brought forth while he was still Sherlock. But he wasn't, I had to stop thinking that. "There you are Amy, Rory. This is a big crowd, isn't it?"

"Hello," Amy greeted cheerfully, as Rory waved beside her. "Ah yes, a big group of people."

"Jack, is there any reason why time splintered, any at all?" the Doctor asked, his smile suddenly vanishing as he got down to buisness.

"Nothing. The Rift's been acting up more lately, but no reason for it to," Jack shook his head.

"Nothing? There had to be something, time doesn't just shrivel up and die... I fixed the TARDIS ages ago," the Doctor stopped suddenly, a sigh escaping his lips. "We need to go to someplace more secure, any place."

"Doctor, what's wrong?" Amy questioned, her gaze shifting from the group around us to the Doctor.

"All of time is splintered, do you have any idea how colossal that is? We've traveled so much, through so many years, and so many places, that any one of those timestreams could be pulled loose and we could collide. This seems to be the very heart of the explosion, there for the most likely place to get pulled to," the Doctor explained rapidly, everyone falling silently to listen. They all knew the Doctor, knew the insanely clever man who would save us if anyone could. "The last thing we need right now is a duplicate of anyone." Not a moment after the words left his mouth then we could make out the whooshing noise of a TARDIS landing. The Doctor reached up and rubbed his forehead for a second in irritation. "So much for that."

I knew it was going to be the Doctor, but the two people who rushed up I could never be prepared for. The first one was a stranger, his bow tie and suspenders conflicting with his young face and crazy hair. The other was all too familiar, her cheery smile in place, only her white lab coat wasn't present... she wasn't dead. Molly and the strange man strode over to us just as cheerily as the Doctor, Amy, and Rory had minutes ago.

"Oh dear," Amy murmured, her eyes fixated on the male figure. "This is going to be complicated."

"Doctor, this is Cardiff, not too far into the future either," Molly was teasing her companion, laughing as they got closer.

The bow-tied man froze as they got closer, his eyes locked on the Ponds. "No... can't be. Amy? Rory?"

"Doctor?" Rory asked uncertainly, looking between the two Doctors. "How can there be two Doctors?"

Suddenly the bow tied Doctor was running towards Amy and Rory, attacking them in a bone crushing hug. "You're alive," he breathed hoarsely.

"Of course we're alive! Doctor, are you alright?" Amy asked, tentatively hugging the Doctor back. "What's going on?"

"Is that you and Molly? How can that be you and Molly?" I muttered, gaping.

"Time's splintered John, pay attention," the Doctor I knew breathed. "That is past me with past Molly. But how are we together? I don't remember this... don't even remember Molly from before my regeneration." Still thoughtful, the Doctor I knew strode over to the other Doctor and started stroking his hair. "Hah, my hair! It use to be so long..."

"Eh, excuse me. You're... me?" the bow-tied Doctor asked, spinning around from Amy and Rory to look himself in the eye. "Sorry, didn't mean to be here. I'll just wander along before cracks start popping up all over."

"Too late, time has splintered, Doctor," my Doctor clued in his counterpart, grimacing. "I think it would be best if you stuck around and tried to help sort out this mess."

"Well then," the bow-tied Doctor sighed solemnly, nodding. "Introductions in order? I think I know most everyone here..." He gazed carefully around at us all.

"Right, yes," my Doctor nodded, coming closer to everyone with the other Doctor and Molly. "Here we have Torchwood with Jack, Ianto, and John-most of which you know. Then there's Mickey and Martha of course, newly engaged I might add! And Rory and Amy, alive and breathing. To the rest of you, this is Molly Hooper and myself. I suppose you'd be the... eleventh Doctor?"

"What?" the Eleventh Doctor asked puzzledly.

"Eleventh regeneration, I am the twelfth-there has to be some way for everyone to keep us straight. Nice bow tie by the way," the Twelfth Doctor grinned, gesturing to the ridiculous red bow-tie.

"Bow ties are cool," the Eleventh Doctor agreed beaming alongside Twelve.

"Oi, can we focus here?" Amy called out exasperatedly. "Why did you think Rory and I were dead?"

"You did die," the Eleventh Doctor moaned, his smile lost. "But how is that possible when...?"

"You died, became me, and somehow am still traveling with the the Ponds?" the Twelfth Doctor completed. "Yes, I was wondering the same. It seems as though not only did time splinter, but so did other realities. Because, I never did travel with Miss Hooper, she died a little while ago, you came from a reality with the Ponds dead but Molly alive. Something was strong enough to do such a thing, yes, something more powerful and destructive than an army of timelords. The question is, what?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you everyone for all the feedback!**

**This chapters pov:** _Donna Noble's point of view starting on the last couple seconds of 'Turn Left'_

* * *

"Doctor, what is it? What's 'Bad Wolf'?" I asked, shutting the TARDIS door behind me.

"It's the end of the universe," the Doctor answered horror struck, freezing where he stood for a second that seemed to stretch on forever, before bounding over to the console and twisting some what's-a-whoozits. The TARDIS sprang into life, shooting off to its next destination. I gripped the TARDIS's side in an effort to stay up. But something was wrong, the movement was a little bit too insane, the noises extra loud-traveling in the TARDIS had never been this out of control.

"Doctor-" I tried to call out, interrupted by a blaring siren pulsing through the TARDIS.

"No, no, no!" the Doctor yelled over the noise, smashing buttons and twisting knobs in an effort to stop the blaring sound. "Not now!"

"Doctor, what's happening?" I bellowed, the sirens subsiding. But suddenly, it wasn't just the Doctor and me, two other people had randomly appeared. The first was a man, his ears sticking out far too huge, with next to nearly no hair, and the leather jacket just completed the whole boat captain look. The second figure was more recognizable, the same woman in the odd parallel world based around me-Rose.

"Who are you two, and what are you doing in the TARDIS?" the man nearly growled, his eyebrows furrowing into a stern glare.

"No! No! Not now! Anytime but now!" the Doctor threw up his hands in frustration, bounding over to continue messing with the console, before rushing over to give the new arrivals a look over. "Oh Rose..."

"How do you know who I am?" Rose asked defiantly. "Doctor, what's going on?"

"I don't know," the other man answered. Why on earth would he answer to Doctor?

"But this isn't right, I don't even remember this! How can I not remember this?" the Doctor sputtered, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry Doctor, this is quite a mess. I'm you, well, future you."

"Oh, Doctor!" the younger Doctor cried out in recognition, his face brightening. "How would you not remember this though?"

"Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey-the walls between realities are breaking... But that shouldn't affect time!" the older Doctor blundered on, his mouth running at lightning speed. "I had the shields up and everything!"

"What the hell is going on?" I asked impatiently, hands on my hips. Three pairs of eyes swiveling in my direction. "How can there be two Doctors?"

"The different points in our timelines collided, our TARDISes merged into one. It's already started, the universe is breaking down," the older Doctor explained, scrunching up his nose slightly. "I would send you back but, eh, doubtful your reality even is in one full piece."

"Paradoxes-" the other Doctor started off.

"Hardly matters right now. Like I said, the walls of realities are collapsing-paradoxes are just a common defect," the older Doctor clarified, grimacing. "If you don't mind-" the Doctor threw his arms around Rose and squeezed her up into a giant hug. Rose, they were back together. I could see it in his eyes, he loved her, so much. And after so much, helping so many people, he had lost her.

To my surprise Rose pulled away, an uncomfortable smile twisting on her lips. "Sorry, it's just, I don't really know you," she muttered apologetically, taking a step towards her more familiar Doctor. "Not yet anyway."

"Right, yeah. Sorry," the older Doctor sighed, his voice completely broken. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, let's see how screwed up reality is." Before anyone could object, this Doctor threw open the TARDIS doors and walked into the sunlight. "2012, Cardiff. Eh, of course we're next to Torchwood; that crack must be acting up like crazy as everything's breaking down."

"Torchwood?" Rose asked, as the four of us scurried away from the TARDIS and towards a large, reflective, building.

"Yep," the older Doctor's smile faltered for a split second once again, but he regained control fast enough for me to mistake it as a trick of the light. Rose's eyes met mine for a moment; we had both seen it. "Doctor, can you tell?" the older Doctor sniffed the air.

"Yeah," boat captain Doctor agreed, nodding grimly. "The edges of our vision, corner of our eye, it's all too reflective and superficial. Reality is splintered around us. There's barely a soul walking about."

"Hang on, what about that lot?" I pointed vaguely to a giant group of people huddled next to the sculpture-like building. It was a surprise no one else had spotted them, about ten people milling about, apparently all listening to someone yapping on in a stressed and serious voice.

"The question is, what?" a man was saying to the others, his dark gray trench coat flapping in the wind.

"Oi, you lot, what's going on?" I marched up to them, the two Doctors and Rose trailing after me.

"Donna, hang on," the Doctor I knew chided, running up after me. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"You won't explain it properly, this man seems to know what he's talking about," I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"I-I did, it's just... complicated," the Doctor I knew sighed.

"D-donna," the man gaped, spinning around to face me. "You remember-Of course, more past mes and people. Well isn't this just perfect. Time is officially screwed up. Oh dear, you lot know even less people."

"Doctor, 'Bad Wolf,'" my Doctor warned, staring intensely into apparently another Doctor's eyes. "The universe is-"

"Oh that's when you are!" the curly haired Doctor with the trench coat cried out. "Actually, no, you'll get to that in time. This I'm afraid is even worse, reality has splintered-there's no real reason why it still exists at all, or even why this is happening."

"We need to get away from Torchwood," A tall, dark-haired man with an American accent reminded the Doctors. "This is only going to keep happening again."

"Right-o, introductions as soon as we cross into the next area," the Doctor I knew spoke up, bounding away down the road. That didn't even make sense! Cross into the next area...? After hesitating for a moment the group followed him. Suddenly, the Doctor vanished in front of me, the area where he was standing shimmered slightly, but other then that he had completely gone. Then Rose, who was running barely in front of me disappeared as well. Hesitantly, I continued. One step and a blink later, I wasn't in Cardiff anymore! Instead the busy streets of London moved around us. Bustling coach wagons passing by, containing men in fancy suits and woman in elegant dresses long enough to sweep the floor.

"That's what you mean, next area," I muttered windedly, glancing around. "So time has literally..."

"Splintered, yes," the curly haired Doctor nodded, as our giant crowd came bustling through. "Walk off one splinter, you fall into the next."

"You were saying about introductions?" the seemingly youngest Doctor prompted, looking around the rather large group of people.

"Right, let's see if I can say this in one long breath," the curly haired Doctor clapped his hands together before pointing to us all in turn. "Donna, Rose, Amy, Rory, Molly, Martha, Mickey, John, Jack, Ianto-" He gasped for air, before starting up again. "-Ninth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Eleventh Doctor, and the Twelfth Doctor. Not quite one breath then, let's just hope this is all the people we'll have to worry about."

"Doctor, well, Doctors, I don't think we can cross back to the same place," the man who went by John clarified, his head poking up, out of thin air. "We best stay together."

"Yes, good call Johnny boy," the Eleventh Doctor nodded, adjusting his ridiculous bow tie. "Best if we partner up, make sure no one gets thrown into another time or place-or even reality-on their own. Twelve, you know everyone the best most likely..."

"Alright," the Twelve Doctor agreed. "Threes would actually work better, I'd think. Rose, Amy, and Rory you're together. Martha, Mickey, and Molly so are you. Jack, Ianto, and Nine. Donna, Ten, and Eleven you're a threesome. And just John and I as a pair."

"Seems daft to split up," Martha groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Well, yes, we're not going to try and split up. This is just in case," Twelve pointed out, moving towards the John bloke. "And besides, no one seems very keen to mingle, well except for the Doctors, well, and Jack, but that's besides the point. You're all brilliant people; and we're going to get through this!"

The Eleventh Doctor bounced towards Ten and I, beaming light heartedly... No, not light heartedly, even if this wasn't the Doctor I knew, it was still him. Still my best friend. Even if this Doctor didn't seem to show his loneliness as plainly as the one I was use to, it still lurked right under the bow tie and suspenders, in his aged, weary eyes.

"That's who I'm going to become...?" The Tenth Doctor whispered tiredly into my ear.

"It's still you," I assured him, giving him a comforting hug. He seemed so utterly broken right now, he had ever since being rejected by Rose and sinking into the cold reality of this get together. This wasn't a happy reunion, where all of his friends and past were suddenly together-it was a graveyard of people he had replaced, and people who would replace. Strangers pulled from their timelines and stuck together while reality crashed down around us. The only one who knew us all so extremely well was the Twelfth Doctor, which made this such a living graveyard for him, that he had paired himself with the one person he apparently didn't know the fate of-John.


	3. Chapter 3

**Switching from the big group, so a small break from everyone talking at once! Bringing in the Supernatural and Cabin Pressure.**

**This chapters pov:** _Dean Winchester__'s point of view starting after Hello, Cruel World_

* * *

"And you're sure it's nesting somewhere in these woods, Sammy?" I asked, driving up through the dirt path in baby, the Impala's black paint shimmering in the sunlight. "That's kind of unusual for a skinwalker."

"Positive," Sam nodded from beside me, squinting over the papers of research he had brought along. It felt so weird to be hunting a changeable creature that wasn't a Leviathan, but this skinwalker that just showed up out of the blue was a nice break, something we could actually kill. "It seemed to be rather out of place, but I could never mistake those flashing eyes."

"Are you sure?" I questioned tentatively, glancing over at him. He seemed normal right now, but it was so hard to tell with the devil screwing with his head.

"Dean, I'm fine," he sighed, knowing what I was getting at. "I know what's real and what's fake."

"Have you been getting any sleep?" I asked patiently.

"No," he pursed his lips honestly, clearing his throat. "Here we are."

"Alright, nutcase, you get some sleep. I'm just going to briefly poke around," I winked, getting out of Baby and heading out into the woods with a silver filled gun. "I'll be right back, give a call if there's anything you can't handle." He claimed to be so in control, but to be completely honest with myself, I didn't trust him on a straight forward hunt like this.

The soft ground crunched ever so slightly under my feet as I padded forward, the wind hissing softly in my ears. Never had I even heard of a skinwalker who didn't have to live in the sewers, the forest was a very unusual sighting, but the signs had been clear enough that there was indeed one lurking in the woods. Minutes past, but there was none of the usual signs.

Suddenly, I heard a howl of pain from behind me. Whipping around, I sprinted back through the woods. Damn it, I had been so stupid to leave him alone. But then again, the scream hadn't been his, perhaps it was just a skinwalker's... he was okay, he would have to be. If I had learned anything from our crazy life, it was that neither of us could die, not permanently anyway. Supposedly.

"Damn it, Sammy," I muttered, catching my breath as soon as I stopped next to Baby. "You're okay, you're going to be fine." The assurance was a lie, we both knew it. He was laying where I had left him, his shirt drenched in blood from a wound that I couldn't pinpoint. "Just hang with me."

"Dean, he's wounded, now's the time to go after him," Sam insisted, his voice weak as it cracked slightly at 'time'. "I didn't manage to hit his... heart."

"Damn it, Sam, I'm not leaving you," I swore, opening the Impala's door and taking Sam's shirt off to try and identify the wound. Oh god, the wound was where his heart should be, there was nothing I could do... it was a miracle he was even still alive-had seconds left at the most. He read the silence as easily as one of his stupid college books.

"Hah, never thought it would be something as simple as a skinwalker," he attempted a smile through the pain.

"Don't talk like that, you're going to be okay," I insisted thickly, because I wanted so badly to believe my own words, no matter how much I knew it was a lie. I sat next to him, squeezing between Baby and Sammy just to hold his head in my lap so he knew he wasn't alone. "It's just a scratch, you survived worse. Come on, you'll be fine."

"Dean... don't..." but he didn't finish his sentence, only gasped with a sort of choking noise, before going completely still.

"Sammy, no," I sobbed, sagging over his empty body. "Don't... leave me." After all this... he had been through the pit and back. After everything, it couldn't be from a stupid skinwalker that was his downfall. He'd come back, somehow he would make it through. I couldn't focus on any of that right now, he had to come back. Now was the time to take my revenge, and then I could find some way of bringing him back-anyway.

At this point I wasn't thinking, didn't want to think or process anything. All there seemed to be, was the fresh blood stains that had left a trail from the Sammy, into the woods. I wasn't going to think about that, not the dead body in the car, not who had left me-because he was coming back, he always came back. I didn't even care that I was being far too loud to sneak up on the creature as I headed out, or that I was being far too thoughtless about my plan of 'find it and kill it'.

Suddenly, the trail of blood stopped into the shimmering air-leaving no sign of the creature anywhere. It couldn't have just vanished into thin air, or even just changed into something else without leaving a skin behind. Nothing was making any sense...

A bang echoed from above, breaking the eerie silence. Out of thin air, a flaming, falling airplane flew through the sky. Plummeting toward the ground, the aircraft was diving right at me. Diving to the side, I just managed to be not be crushed under the airplane. A crash sounded as part of the small plane caved in. This was exactly why I didn't like airplanes. I slunk away from the craft to a safe distance as I began to hear voice from inside the craft.

"Everyone get out!" a female voice with a British accent called from the craft, climbing from the airplane as she coughed out all the fire's fumes that were littering the air. Following her was a tall, graying man, with a much smaller, redhead in his arms. "What on Earth happened?"

"I-I don't know," the smaller man stuttered weakly in another British accent, as the three of them came towards me in their effort to get away from crashed craft. "The plane just lost control... Did everyone get out all right?" Just what I needed, planes and unarmed civilians, while the skinwalker was still on the loose somewhere.

"Luckily it was a cargo flight. Are you alright, Martin?" the other man nodded with the same time of accent, looking troubledly down at the man in his arms. "Where's Arthur?"

"Arthur!" the woman called out shrilly, before Martin could respond. "Arthur, where are you?"

No response.

"I'm going to take a closer look," she snapped, walking back to the plane at a frankly alarming rate for a woman of her age.

"Carolyn-" the older man started.

"Just try and stop me," she hissed, which was met with silence. Carefully, she vanished back into the destroid craft.

"Are you alright, Martin?" the man repeated himself, lowering Martin so he was just leaning on him.

"No, I don't think so," Martin answered with a groan. "I think I broke my ankle. Douglas, what do you think happened?"

"I... I don't know," Douglas responded slowly. "Huh, That must be a first. We completely lost control of everything, I've never heard of anything like it. Oh, hello. Who are you?" The two turned to me, finally noticing me watching their struggle.

"Dean," I shrugged, taking a step towards them. "Who are you?"

"We are Dug and Mart, the merry men of MJN Air," Douglas introduced, flourishing his free hand in a half bow.

"Sorry, ignore him," Martin clarified, his voice weak and trembling as he gritted his teeth against the pain. "I'm Captain Martin Crieff, and this is First Officer Douglas Richardson. We sort of crashed-"

"Yeah, I saw that," I muttered, not in the mood to talk. In the back of my mind I could still hear a voice whisper, He's dead, you left him on his own and he died, he died, he died, he's dead... "Listen, you need to get out of here, there's been a... bear sighting."

"A bear sighting?" the First Officer asked disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow.

"Vicious grizzly," I assured him, anxious for him to leave so I could get back on the Skinwalker's trail. "So if you could just get to the nearest town..."

"And where did we land?" the tiny Captain squeaked through his agony.

"Just about ten miles out of Detroit," I shrugged, taking a closer step towards where the Skinwalker had disappeared.

"Detroit?" Martin echoed, gasping out in pain as Douglas easily picked him up again to take the pain off his leg. "We were just flying over West Africa! There's no way we could be on this side of the world."

What he was saying was probably relatively important, but I wasn't listening anymore. Instead I was focused on the figure who had appeared at the end of the blood trail. The angel wearing a trench coat, my angel. No... it couldn't be. Castiel was dead, the Leviathans killed him... But here he was, alive as ever. He strode towards me, ignoring the surprised looks from the two members of MJN Air.

"Dean-" he began, but Carolyn butting in as she ran from the ruined airplane.

"He's dead," she announced hysterically, her eyes brimming with tears that poured silently down her face. "Arthur's dead."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the lack of update last week! I had been too caught up in a complicated original work and as you may have noticed, I was trying to finish two other fics, but it won't happen again. **

**This chapters pov:**_ The Torchwood John Watson  
_

* * *

This was absolutely insane. Sure, I was use to dashing about-even time travel had become less alien at this point. But this, walking from one splinter to another. Definitely took top prize in most crazy things I've ever done.

It was a relief, really, to be paired up with the Twelfth Doctor, with all the new faces and weird splintering going on. They all seemed like amazing, brilliant people-half of which I knew from some thing or another. But on the other hand the only one I really wanted to be with was Sherlock, my Sherlock-now my Doctor, it was the closest thing I had left.

"Right, so we need to figure out what's going on!" Eleven announced, clapping his hands together. "Where are we? London, 1840?"

"Same assumption," Ten nodded. "But what could have caused this? Couldn't be an accident, but the person would have to have extreme power, more then ever seen before..." He looked expectantly at the Sherlock-Doctor standing beside me.

"Well, five ideas," Twelve responded, getting a far off look that signaled he'd gone into his mind palace. Such a hauntingly, like Sherlock, look.

"Five?" Jack repeated incredulously, looking baffled along with everyone else.

The Twelve Doctor's gaze snapped to something in the corner of his eye. "Okay, two. I'll be right back. Stay put so I can find everyone. John?"

"Right," I nodded, following him out of the crowd and into the busy street. Although moments before, it had been bustling with stage coaches, the streets were almost empty, even a few out of place people were wandering about. "Doctor, how come none of the locals are noticing us?"

"They see but not observe, John," Twelve muttered under his breath, quickening his pace to a run. "As does the rest of the human race."

As I raced after him, I bit back my comment on how Sherlock hadn't, he had deduced things for as they truly were. Suddenly, the Doctor halted at the side of the building, glancing at me. His eyes meeting mine to ensure we were both ready. I gave a nod, my hand clutching the gun in my pocket out of habit. The two of us turned the corner, to see the person I had least expected.

"Hello boys!" the psychopath Jim Moriarty sang, reaching out his arms to reveal the Westwood suit underneath. "I see Dr. Watson sticks with you, even when you call yourself a Doctor. Have you figured it out yet? My little game." He stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned at us. It seemed to odd, sure reality was falling to bits, but generally Moriarty had some sort of protection.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes calculatingly, before they widened in disbelief. "How?"

"It was simple really," Moriarty revealed dauntingly. Still, I had no idea what the heck either of them were going on about. "Only took a decade or so."

"You're bluffing," the Doctor tried, his eyes locked with Moriarty's. "That's not possible."

"Hmm, maybe you're not as clever as I thought, ordinary even. You keep underestimating me." Moriarty contemplated, making a face as he broke eye contact to glance at me. "Out of all your travel through time and space, Doctor, did you ever find anyone more likely to solve the God Code?"

Confusedly, I looked between the two of them. What ever this God Code was, it had to be bad, really bad.

"If you have solved it, then how come I'm not dead?" the Doctor asked, watching his nemesis carefully.

Moriarty sighed exaggeratedly. "You really think I'd be that dull? No no no, I'm saving it up for something special. There's no need to rush it. With all of reality in my hands Doctor, there is no such thing as boredom, anything's in my reach. But I'm not done with our little game, this was the only real way to get your attention?"

"Becoming a god? Have you ever heard of a phone?" the Twelfth Doctor questioned sarcastically.

"You're not good at picking up," Moriarty went on lazily, rolling his heads on his shoulders. "I've set up some tests for you; at each breath in time there's one of your lovely mysteries. With the little gang you've cooked up I'm sure it wouldn't be impossible to sort out."

"And if I don't?" the Doctor challenged.

Moriarty shrugged. "You get to live in a screwed-up world, while everyone dies around you as all of reality breaks out into havoc and war, knowing that you could fix it. If I do get bored, you have an awful lot of friends to mess with." He frowned at something we can't see. "I've got to go. You'll be hearing from me, Doctor." Without another word, the consulting criminal vanished into thin air.

"Doctor?" I cleared my throat, after a moment of us standing there in silence. "What's the God Code?"

"It's the key to control the entire universe," the Doctor breathed, seeming very Sherlock as he skipped the normal person panicky stage, and went straight to his mind palace. "And Moriarty figured it out."


	5. Chapter 5

**THIS IS NOT THE SHERLOCK CAST FROM THE POCKET WATCH**

**I REPEAT**

**THIS IS NOT THE SHERLOCK CAST FROM THE POCKET WATCH**

**These are from after season 2 in the real Sherlock time line, just to make everything more confusing.**

**This chapters pov:**_ The normal John Watson  
_

* * *

For what seemed like hours, I stared at the name on my phone's caller. Even before his mistake, Mycroft Holmes had never been one to call directly. But here he was, calling at five in the morning. Did he even consider how angry I was with him? Moriarty would never have been able to kill Sherlock without the information? I would still be whole without his way of making Jim talk.

After letting it ring to the point where I couldn't bare the blaring sound anymore, I picked it up. No one called me anymore, so all the sound did was remind me of Sherlock. It had been three years. Three damn years and I still wasn't over him. Why? I wish I knew, but no matter how many sleepless nights I spend speculating that, the answer never came. Maybe it wasn't important, that would never change. I allowed him to say the first word.

"John?" Mycroft drawled, his voice hinting at panicky, just enough for me to swallow my yelling and screaming.

"Mycroft," I answered cooly, gritting my teeth and the arm of my chair. It was a dusty flat, smelling of mold and crawling with cockroaches, but this was really all I could afford. I didn't really mind the state of the place, it was the loneliness. I had never really realized how much company Sherlock was for me until... well, it happened.

"John, I'm sorry for being out of touch," Mycroft sighed, obviously painfully aware of my coldness and its reason. "But you know the battlefield Dr. Watson, know the importance of taking an order without much explanation."

"Mycroft-" I barked back, rolling my eyes. This was so stupid. I wasn't going to listen if his words to me after three years, were orders.

"John, this is important," Mycroft cut in curtly, and I could picture his stern gaze. "You need to stay at home. I can't explain right now, but someone's coming over to explain everything to you. Expect anything Dr. Watson."

Before I could answer with a snide, angry reply, demanding for information, he hung up. What the heck was he talking about with all his mysteriousness? I was so tired of dealing with so many unanswered questions. Hopefully, who ever Mycroft was sending would explain everything.

Two strong knocks could be heard from my ratty chair. Hoisting myself up, I habbled to the door. Yes, my bad leg was back. It had started a month or so after the fall... the day I stopped looking around every corner for the one and only consulting detective. I wasn't stupid, I knew that the leg wasn't really injured, but it sure felt like it.

"He-" I opened the door, my mouth falling open. No, no, no... the therapist said I would stop having hallucinations... "Sh-sherlock?" Don't talk to the hallucination, it will only get worse.

"You moved out of our flat," Sherlock murmured awkwardly, his eyes darting around, the way they had always done while deducing. He seemed to real, as though I could reach out and touch him. But I knew that if I tried, he would just fade to dust, and although that would probably be better for me in the long run, I didn't want to end the illusion. Not yet.

"Don't-not again," I breathed, sagging against the door frame.

"What?" Sherlock asked, his eyebrows drawing together in speculation.

"I have to stop these hallucinations," I muttered, staggering away from the door, shaking my head slowly.

Sherlock's gaze widened slightly and ever so slowly he reached out a hand to touch my hand. "I'm real John."

"Oh god, what...? How..?" I asked desperately, bombarded with confusion and doubt. This wasn't possible... The next words issued from my lips as an unbelieving croak. "You're alive?"

"Yes," Sherlock nodded, glancing around quickly. "It's not safe to talk here." Without invitation Sherlock slid past me, into the bare flat. "It's... nice."

"Don't try to be considerate, it doesn't suit you," I advised, numb with surprise and confusion.

"You're alright then?" Sherlock studied my quietly, pacing back and forth in the small bit of open space.

"Obviously not," I laughed dryly. "You've been alive this entire time? Three years?

Sherlock nodded, meeting my eyes for a moment, before continuing his pacing.

"You couldn't call? Just tell me your alive?" I whispered, and I could tell from the small flicker of guilt on his face, that I couldn't have gotten my disbelief and anger across better if I had screamed. "Why?"

"You were being watched too carefully, if Moriarty gunman heard even a whisper I was alive, they'd kill you," Sherlock breathed, still walking back in forth, a tad quicker. It felt so normal, his lightning speed speach, the pacing. "But everyone watching you has disappeared, the security cameras have gone all insane, and there's no logical explanation-"

"Sherlock-No, you can't just start up like nothing happened!" I interrupted, my voice quickly rising as I spoke. "Three years! Do you even understand? I mourned for you Sherlock, I watched you fall. oh no, it was just a cheap trick." Shaking my head, I pushed past him and to the door.

"Friends protect people, John," Sherlock called after me. "That's why I jumped."

I froze where I stood, barely able to believe his words. "W-what?"

"Three gunman, three victims," he explained bitterly, putting a hand on my shoulder to turn me around so I had to look him in the eye. "Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, and you. There was only one way to call them off. I'm sorry John. I swear, I would have given anything to come back sooner. Please, John."

"I... I didn't know-oh god," I deflated, my eyes softening. And all this time, I thought he was just being a heartless bastard... all along he had been protecting me, being the hero he didn't claim existed. "How did you survive?"

"Someone owed me a favor and helped me out," Sherlock brushed off, smirking slightly at the thought. "It would be best to explain how after you meet him, which we should be going to do right now. I assume Mycroft told you what's going on?"

"Erm, no," I sighed, finally letting myself fall back into the idea that Sherlock was actually alive. "Just told me to say indoors."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth. "Mycroft's been intolerable lately. Everyone has been disappearing from the streets, and before his security cameras died, Moriarty was spotted."

"What?" I cried out in horror. "So you both survived?"

"He didn't, the death he pulled off was a lot harder to fake," Sherlock muttered. "Coming?"

"Oh god, yes" I replied, pulling my jacket on compliantly. Even with a psychopath on the loose, and everyone disappearing, I couldn't help but feel light hearted-I was back on the battlefield again, and with Sherlock too.

My smile faltered slightly as I saw the approaching woman, once we had gotten outside my flat. How was she even alive.

"A bit out in the open, Ms. Alder?" Sherlock greeted, pulling his scarf on and striding towards the disguised woman, her head protruding from the black coat, just enough to make out who she was.

"Mr. Holmes, I'm assuming we're not in Australia," Irene smiled pleasntly, raising an eyebrow. "And you're not dead. Let's have dinner."

"London," Sherlock replied evenly, ignoring the offer.

"Is no one dead?" I asked, laughing a bit hysterically. I mean really, first Sherlock, then Moriarty, and now Irene? Maybe I was also dead now, had finally given into the gun that I had tucked away in my desk drawer.

"Ah, John. You just found out he was alive as well, no?" Irene's lips curled up into a smirk. "Perhaps then you two are the ones having dinner."

I sighed, the countless times I had denied being gay rolling through my head. But really, if my life without Sherlock had taught me anything, it didn't matter if I was straight, I was in love with Sherlock. He couldn't know that, at least not yet, I was still getting use to him being alive in the first place.

Sherlock didn't deny her comment either, but instead stared off into the direction she came from. "You were in Australia a moment ago, I take it?"

"Yes," she sighed, rubbing her hands together, her eyes laughing. "Transported, 'like a fairy.' What do you think, Sherlock?"

"Not enough data," Sherlock breathed, heading in that direction. Not needing the invitation, both of us followed. "Something is transporting everyone. The Doctor should have shown up by now, I don't know what's going on..."

"Come again?" I asked, unsuccessfully trying to hide my smile.

"You heard me perfectly well," Sherlock grumbled. Suddenly, he disappeared in front of me, leaving me in the deserted street with Irene, the area where he use to be shimmered slightly.

"Here we go," Irene muttered, her eyes glinting with excitment. "And John, you do know it's obvious?"

"We're not-"

"Oh, but you can tell now, can't you," Irene grinned. "Sherlock's the exception." Keen to leave me on that note, she stepped forward and disappeared, and I quickly followed her lead. All of a sudden, the air around me spun, colors widly rearranging into a street filled with... coach cars? No, this wasn't right, the old fashioned suits and long billowing dresses looked like something out of a movie.

"Sherlock?" I murmured, gazing around. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," Sherlock whispered, equally spellbound, but probably just collecting data instead of being completely dazzled.

"Sherlock?" someone yelled out of the crowd. Greg Lestrade was suddenly dashing towards us, nearly getting hit by a horse on the way. "Oh thank god. I'm just going to ignore the fact that all of you are suppose to be dead, because this is one hell of a weird day. Do you know what's going on?"

Sherlock said nothing, just narrowed his eyes in concentration. This was definitely back into action. I don't think I've ever done anything so insane and confusing; it was brilliant.


	6. Chapter 6

**Bringing even more together... thanks for sticking with the confusion!**

**This chapters pov:**_ Amy Pond_

* * *

"Well, so much for not splitting up," I grumbled to Rory, glancing at the retreating back of the Doctor. "I suppose we should be used to it, especially with this new regeneration."

Rory grimaced in agreement.

I turned towards the woman we had paired up with. "Your name is Rose, right?"

"Yeah, Rose Tyler," she smiled, sticking a hand out for me. "You're Amy and Rory Pond, right?"

"Yeah," Rory nodded, returning her smile. "You're with the Ninth Doctor, right?"

Rose nodded, narrowing her eyes slightly. "And you're with the Twelfth Doctor?"

Casting my gaze over, I saw Eleven babbling on about something hyperly to Donna and the Tenth Doctor. "Yep," My gaze met Rose's for a second and I could see the sadness that was so recognizable. The thought that the traveling would end, the exciting adventures with the Doctor. The fact that I was even here, along with Martha, Donna, and Molly, meant that there was, in fact, an end to the brilliance for poor Rose. "Hey, we only have one life." The reminder was quiet, such an odd sentence that only a companion of the Doctor would truly understand.

Rose nodded, a bitter smile tracing her lips. "D'you know where your Doctor went off to?"

"No clue, he does that a lot," I shrugged, rolling my eyes. "I'm suppose you're used to that, though?"

"Loads," Rose half grinned, shaking herself mentally. "Does he still stroke the TARDIS sometimes?"

"All the time," I laughed, glancing back off where the Twelfth Doctor had disappeared, before fully facing Rose. "I see your regeneration at least has a good fashion sense. Does he do the thing where he won't change his clothes-ever?"

"Yes!" Rose clapped her hands together, her face breaking out in a full grin. "I'm like, doesn't it get dirty? All time and space in that leather jacket? He made me change for the time period, our first go in the TARDIS. Never fell for that one again."

I covered my giggle as a recognizable figure transported into existence. Her frizzy mess of blond hair toppled above the panicky face of my daughter River Song, even as she ran her hand was gripping a gun.

"River!" I called, quickly running towards her. "What's wrong?"

"Looks like the whole gang's here," River breathed, glancing around, her hand on the trigger. "How far along are you two?"

"We last saw you after the Master came back," I assured her. "We know who you are."

"Hello, Mum and Dad," River said distractedly. "That's good at least, though it'll be tricky with all these former regenerations here. When does the Eleventh Doctor come from?"

"No idea," I replied brightly.

River smiled tiredly, before hurrying over to the Eleventh Doctor's side. "Doctor!"

Three heads turned her way.

"I meant bow-tie Doctor," River sighed exaggeratedly. "Sweetie, you know who I am yet?"

"That would be a 'yes,'" Eleven nodded cheerfully, extending a hand of welcome.

"Who is she?" Rose whispered to me, eyeing her suspiciously.

"River Song, my daughter," I nodded back. "But don't tell your Doctor, there's spoilers involved."

"This whole mess is a box full of spoilers," Rose muttered, but I was too distracted to hear the contempt in her voice.

"Hello, sweetie, another me is com-," River was warning, staring at something behind them. "Early River is here."

"Well, this is awkward," Rory wrung his hands, looking between the blonde-haired River, and the Melody I had grown up with in the strange raising situation.

"Oh, dear," The Eleventh Doctor understated, his eyes also dashing between the two Rivers as well. "Hello, Mels, how about you just step back and we leave this for later!"

"You're out of your time," River hissed, stepping a tentative step towards Melody.

"Doesn't much matter though, does it," Mels purred, fingering her gun happily. "If I kill the Doctor now, it leaves less work for later. Good rule, always follow those who say to stay away."

"Mels, step back," Rory insisted, his eyes still shifting back and forth.

"Hold on, that's my rule!" the Doctor butted in. "You haven't met me yet. And how about you just put your guns down, their bad. Bad guns, that should be a rule."

"Sweetie, I taught that one to you," River reminded him, rolling her eyes, as she whipped out her gun and aimed it at her past self.

"Right," The Doctor ducked, managing to avoid the bullet. "Really though, we can settle this calmly, Rivers-"

In a split second Melody aimed another fire, River let her shot ring through the air, and the younger Melody Pond fell to the ground.

"You can't do that!" the Eleventh Doctor cried out, running forward to kneel besides the dying Melody. "This isn't going to solve anything, she's a Time Lady! Besides, she's you! You're her!"

"What's going on?" Rose asked me tentatively.

"Oh, that's just my daughter, twice," I replied slowly, narrowing my eyes. "She's a Time Lady."

"Right, of course," Rose sighed, exchanging a look with the Ninth Doctor.

"You're a Time Lady!" the Tenth Doctor cried out, stumbling backward as though he had been literally hit.

"Knew this would get wobbly," River groaned. "Spoilers, sweetie."

Eleven glanced up, seemingly out of habit, before leaning down to listen to Mels' hearts. "This isn't right," he whispered, glancing up at Martha who knelt beside him, checking Mels over. "She should have regenerated at this point."

"I'm sorry, she's dead," Martha shook her head, looking up at the Eleventh Doctor despairingly.

"You killed you!" the Eleventh Doctor suddenly bellowed, leaping up and staring at the live River accusingly, his eyes full of tears. "How are you even alive?"

"Sweetie, I was just trying to-" River started

"The game is certainly on," The Twelve Doctor announced, walking towards us with John behind him. "River, and River, that's certainly unfortunate."

"Unfortunate?" Eleven laughed dryly, striding over to his future self. "She killed herself. Do not understand how out of wack-?"

"I understand perfectly," Twelve replied cooly, easily talking over the other hysterical Doctor. "The psychopath Jim Moriarty has solved the God Code, intending to continue his game with Sherlock."

"He's still going at it?" I piped up in the stunned silence. "What's the God Code?"

"The code that controls all of time and space," Ten spoke up, his jaw dropping. "That's why River isn't dead, time's so wacked up by this Jim bloke that none of our past selves are connected to us. More timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly then ever."

"Then won't he bring the Master back?" Rory asked from beside me. As though he had spoken a magic word, Martha and all the Doctor's heads swiveled in his direction. "I mean, they were allies last time, correct?"

To my surprise, the Twelfth Doctor shook his head. "Moriarty doesn't need his help now, and has no intention of sharing his power. And another thing, there's a case at each crack in time, one we can solve to seal it back up."

"But why give us the chance?" The Ninth Doctor spoke up at the edge of the crowd, next to Jack and Ianto. "If he solved the God Code, he could rewrite our existence in an instant."

"It's all a game to him," John spoke up sullenly, practically sticking to the Twelfth Doctor's side. It was funny, how the two of them seemed to still such a strong connection with this Doctor. "It's to quench his boredom." John and Twelve exchanged a look, before cracking up.

"You think this is funny?" Ten reeled out, grinding his teeth together. "People have died, and so many more will come."

"Absolutely not," The Twelfth Doctor assured him. "Couldn't be more dire. And I believe the situation is about to get even more confusing."

"How could it possibly get more-oh," Donna shook her head, freezing as she spotted another modern group approaching us. A group that contained Inspector Detective Inspector Lestrade, some unknown woman, and the identical twins of the Twelfth Doctor and John.

"This could get tricky," Eleven spoke up, his face grim.

The three paused in discussion, the copy of the Twelfth Doctor's mouth opening slightly in awe, before all three of them sprinted towards us.

"As I feared," the duplicate of Twelve nodded stiffly, his face cold and calculating. He turned towards the mourning Eleventh Doctor. "Doctor, why is reality cracked?"

"Hold on, you're the Doctor," Mickey said in disbelief.

"No, not quite," the Twelfth Doctor muttered. "But your mind can't be that quick..."

"You don't mean-" the John I knew breathed, his gaze locked on the Doctor's copy.

"Yes John, he's fully Sherlock," the Twelfth Doctor looking on, troubled.

"Hang on, what?" the other John asked, looking very confused.

"Everyone shut up!" The Twelve duplicate who was apparently named Sherlock yelled. "Doctor, what's going on?"

"Oh, you're the Sherlock from my reality!" Eleven nodded knowingly, his troubled gaze turning into a fake grin. "Right as always, reality has broken up. Moriarty has managed to solve the code to control the universe!"

The John with Sherlock's face paled at the words, his eyes widening. "Two Sherlocks?"

"Oh no, he's an alien who pretended to be Sherlock in my version of reality," the original John assured him, seeming to be taking this relatively well. "But... two uses."

"Right, well, that will be confusing," Eleven pointed out, surprisingly cheerful after seeing his wife getting stabbed and reality collapsing around him. "John, you'll be Jam. It's close enough to remember. And I believe we could use some new groups now."

Jam attempted to talk over him in protest, but didn't quite manage.

"Sherlock and Jam, stay together. River, Lestrade, and Irene, you'll be together," Eleven continued, glancing at Jam humorously.

"Irene and River... bad idea," Twelve announced, shaking his head furiously. "You might as well add Jack in there."

"I'll behave," Irene purred, gazing at River who strode towards her rather coolly.

"Now, let's find a crime scene with Sherlock Holmes!" Donna announced.

As we moved towards the area we had fallen through, I saw John watching Sherlock's eyes light up, elated, out of the corner of my eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapters pov:**_ Martin Creiff_

* * *

"Dead?" I repeated in a whisper. "How can...? No, no he can't be!" Arthur couldn't be dead... he just couldn't! He was the grinning figure, lurking in the galley, and supplying us poisoned food. The cheerful person whose good humor always helped the rides sail by.

Carolyn just said nothing, tears rolling down her wrinkled face.

Douglas's face went completely white. Also wordless, he gently placed me on the ground, and sprinted into the craft himself. From my position I could do little more than look up at the sky. Douglas would find Arthur, sort it all out, everything would be alright.

"Who the hell are you?" Carolyn suddenly screamed at Dean and his new companion. "Are you just a big moron or are you going to call an ambulance!"

Dean cowered beneath the fiery woman, looking taken aback.

"I'm not that bad," I groaned in protest, attempting to stand and failing. "Arthur's going to need the ambulance, not me."

"Martin," Carolyn's voice fell to a pained whisper, the words shaking slightly. Even though I couldn't see her, she was very obviously crying. "He's not going to need an ambulance, he's dead." The last word seemed to echo in the woods around us. For some reason, this seemed even more definite than her last proclamation.

The sound that came from my mouth couldn't have been human, something of a wheezing cry of pain. Oh god, this was all my fault, I had been in control when it suddenly dropped from the sky with complete failure of everything.

"Everyone shut up!" Carolyn cried out. "You, call an ambulance, Douglas, get back here, and let's get out of this dump hole of a forest. Martin, your ankle is broken, GERTI is junk, Arthur is... dead. This is it, we could have never gone out in such flames as this. I do wish everything really had ended at St. Petersburg now."

"My phone's dead," Dean groaned. "Cas, how are you even here? You died! Really died, this time."

"I..." Cas looked around in bewilderment. "I don't know, we went through that before though. Here, I've got some honey." Cas held out a plastic bag, full of a liquid I assumed was honey.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered, taking the bag. "It's fine to say you just don't know, it's happened before."

I looked over at Douglas, waiting for him to make some sort of sarcastic comment about this situation and sort it all out. Instead, as he came back up from the craft, his face grave, he just shook his head back and forth morosely.

"Interesting," Cas looked intently into Dean's eyes. "You're past Dean."

"He's quite alright in the head?" Douglas came to the rescue, not seeming to have quite as much vigor as normal.

"Not quite sure at this point," Dean swallowed, shaking his head back and forth, as if he was trying to clear it

"Douglas, what are we going to do?" I breathed, my voice shaking slightly from the tears falling down my face. "I'm so sorry, this is all my fault."

"Don't be stupid, Martin," Douglas gritted his teeth. "How could this be your fault? That tech failure was insane, we're lucky to get out with these many lives. Well, obviously we have to walk to Detroit unless Dean has a car we could borrow or hitch a ride in."

"Why not!" Dean growled, throwing up his hands. "I've already completely lost the trail. I need to... take care of something first though."

The other two cabin crew members seeming so unusually quiet, we all followed Dean back into the woods. He was whispering something frantically to Cas, who answered in a voice too quiet to hear. Douglas picked me back up, after I attempted several times to stand on my injured ankle. This was the only way we could get the several miles to Dean's black Impala.

"There's a dead body in the car!" I yelped out in surprise, catching site of the man whose chest seemed to be ripped to smithereens.

"Yeah," Dean swallowed, looking away. "I just need to burn and bury him."

"Dean, I'm so sorry," Cas murmured, moving to behind his friend. "What-what did it?"

"Skinwalker," Dean clenched his fists as he spoke the nonsensical word. "And it's still out there. Completely disappeared." Turning around very casually, Dean handcuffed Cas to the car. "It's far too suspicious that you showed up. As much as I want to believe you've somehow survived again..." His words died in his throat, apparently the insanity obvious from that point on.

"Dean, I'm not-" Cas sighed, looking up trustingly into Dean's eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" Douglas asked, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder and trying to force him away from his apparent friend.

Dean lashed out, with some sort of rod in his hand at Cas. The shimmering silver just bounced off Cas harmlessly. "Had to make sure," Dean sighed in relief, uncuffing Cas. "How did you survive this time? Now just give me a sec while I burn..."

"Hold on, what's going on?" Douglas repeated, turning Dean around.

"You wouldn't believe me if I said," Dean laughed, rather hysterically, shoving Douglas off and gathering some wood together.

"GERTI just crashed for no possible reason, I just lost one of my best friends and my job in the same moment," Douglas snapped at him, his voice rising. "Try me!"

"The supernatural is real," Dean explained, completely serious. He was insane, completely insane, must be. "Say hello to your first angel, Castiel. Sorry if it seemed like I was going out of line, I was just trying to make sure he wasn't a morphing creature that just killed my brother. Very possibly your plane was crashed by a demon. Now let's get you all back to town so I can continue my hunt without any interruptions."

"You're insane," Carolyn breathed my opinion. "Just get us to the town. I don't really care."

"Yep, knew that would happen," Dean sighed, somberly bringing his brother's body over to the pile of wood. Without another word, he lit the body, watching the flames die away with tears in his eyes. Then he got into the Impala, and just waited.

Castiel got into the front seat beside him. "You should know Dean, that I can't help you with the skinwalker. I don't fight anymore, I watch the bees."

"What?" Dean asked, turning to the supposed angel beside him. "If you people want a ride, get in the car."

Douglas carefully put in the the back of the car, my ankle crying out in pain. A whimper must have escaped my look because even Carolyn took a moment from her sullen crabbiness to look down at me in concern. The other two loaded in the car as well.

Suddenly music blasted through the car. Carry on my wayward son, they'll be peace when you are-. Dean switched it off. "What the hell? How did it even turn on? I didn't..."

"Dean, it could be-" Cas started to suggest as we drove off into an empty highway.

"No, it isn't," Dean insisted, gritting his teeth together. "Sammy's not that stupid."

"Okay," Castiel sighed, continuing into the silence of the car. The music started up again and this time, Dean didn't turn it off.

Suddenly, a flash of light, so like what had appeared before the crash, enveloped the car. The Impala spun around in the confusion, appearing in not only a town, but one filled with horse drawn carriages and everything very Victorian-era.

"What the hell?" Dean breathed, getting out of the Impala.

"Okay, maybe I do believe in the supernatural now," I groaned, looking out the window. Nothing made sense about this day, absolutely nothing. RIght now, I could believe a whole lot of things were real. All I knew were the grim facts; I worked for MJNair, the plane crashed, Arthur got killed in the crash, everything I cared about was doomed...

"Don't be ridiculous," Carolyn scoffed, shaking her head back and forth. "Where did you take us?"

"I don't know," Dean muttered, walking around. "Trickster or Gabriel possibly?"

Castiel just shrugged, following Dean out.

"I suppose this is a town," I grumbled as Douglas helped me out of the car.

"No way," Dean breathed, looking over at a group of people that had two very similar-looking people. There's about twenty of them, wearing clothes that weren't very suited to the victorian aura feel. One of them was gesturing over towards us, before they all started off. "It's him, it has to be him. Cas, back me up."

"I told you, I watch the bees now," Cas murmured uncomfortably, yet he followed Dean as the man strode towards the group, drawing his gun.

"You killed my brother," Dean yelled out, charging towards them, he brandished his gun. "But this has silver bullets, and it's all over for you."

"I haven't killed any brother of yours!" One of the curly haired man in a trenchcoat cried out in protest. "Just put the gun down and we can talk this out-you too River! Let's all just settle this peacefully."

Another woman beside him had drawn a gun and aimed it at Dean. The insane man we had followed here, let the first shot ring out, ripping through one of the duplicate's shoulders. At this point I was so confused, and helpless that all I could do was wonder how Dean knew it was this man and not the look-a-like that was guilty.

"Your shoulder's fine," Dean murmured awestruck.

"No, you just shot it," the man growled, glaring at Dean. Already, the short, blond man beside the shot person, was looking the wound over and sitting him down.

"You're not a skinwalker," Dean breathed. "Damn it. I'm so, so sorry."

"Didn't know skinwalkers were real," the injured man grinned grimly. "Looks like you're already in a mess. Well, you've wandered in an even larger one. Hello, I'm the Doctor, but there's many Doctors here so just call me Twelve."

"Martin-" Douglas whispered at me, eyeing Twelve and his duplicate.

"Yes, I see," I scratched my head, shifting in his hands. "Two people who look so much like me-only tall."

"Yes," Douglas marveled. "A tall Captain Crieff, the very thought.

"Well, looks like there's a lot of explaining to be done," Twelve started, taking a deep breath before starting into a long and complicated tale.


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapters pov:**_ John Watson from after the Pocket Watch._

* * *

This was just getting too weird, now everyone was thoroughly confused. There wasn't a single one of us who knew every face or name here. With all of this 'wibbly wobbliness' as one of the Doctors had put it, it was just too much.

"If we're really trying to put reality back to together, it's inconvenient to all stay together," Sherlock huffed. Sherlock; it was really him, no pocket watch, and no pretending Doctor. That perhaps was the one saving grace of all of this, although, he had his own John, I should really just not think too hard about him. "We should split up and seal different cracks in reality."

"Agreed," Twelve nodded. "Probably two groups would work the best. Let's see... John, Rose, Amy, Rory, Martha, Mickey, Molly, Donna, Ten, Eleven, and Lestrade, you'll be with me. That's half, right? The rest of you go in the other direction until you transport somewhere else, then find a mystery down Sherlock's alley, shouldn't be too hard."

"Hold on," Eleven signaled, walking up to a house and rapping on the door. There was no answer. He peered in the window.

"Reality is splintered, there's not going to be anyone home," Sherlock sighed impassionately.

"Alright, then this is our base," Eleven announced, pulling open the door and gesturing inside. "If we can get back here at all, try to meet up after we've solved a case."

"Martin, wasn't it?" I asked the man next to me.

"Hmm?" the tired, red-headed pilot asked, from where he was leaning against Douglas. Martha and I had managed to wrap it up into something temporary, but without any of the proper supplies we could only help so much.

"Perhaps it would be best if you stade back to rest your ankle with someone with medical knowledge," I suggested, concerned. "I bet they'll be a lot of running to do."

"I suppose so, I just... want to help," Martin sighed earnestly, grimacing as he tried to put some weight on his injury.

"Martin, having you hobble around is going to help no one," Carolyn snapped.

"Right, okay," Martin sighed, limping up to the house.

"I can stay with him," Martha offered, giving Martin a hand with the steps up that were succeeding in beating him. "If anyone can get ahold of some medical supplies that would be helpful."

"See ya, love," Mickey kissed Martha, before she trotted up.

The woman named Rose narrowed her eyes and hissed slightly.

"Oh, Rose, I'm from far after you, once we've split up," Mickey shrugged uncomfortably. "Trust me, I stayed with you a lot longer than I should have. You were with the Doctor and it was never for me that you came back for.******"**

"Right then," Rose half smiled in a grimace. "We're going off to save reality, right?"

"Let's," Sherlock sighed exasperatedly, stalking up in the direction Twelve had gestured towards.

"We'll be back," John smiled in farewell, scurrying after the detective. "Good luck."

Sighing, with some bickering, and a couple goodbyes, Rose, Amy, Rory, Martin, Douglas, Carolyn, Dean, Castiel, Irene, and River followed them out of that reality.

"Well then, now there's room to breath," Lestrade smiled, looking around at us all. "Even though I don't know any of you besides John and Twelve."

"Off we go then," Eleven chirped, a sad grin in place. "He'll be better and we'll be all together in no time." With that the bouncy alien lead the way to where we had transported from Cardiff, vanishing. With a glance at Twelve, who was deep in thought, I followed lead.

Beyond us was the empty scene of the current time's street. From the edge of my vision I could see a five-foot tall, armored Anklosaurs chasing a man on his bright blue bike, but besides that, the streets were empty. There was only eleven of us now, but I still felt odd that all of us were managing to keep silent, even in the grim circumstance.

"Should be up here then," Ten announced, walking up to the petit house on the edge of the shimmering crack of reality that we had just stepped through. The shingles were beige, barely sticking into their place on the roof. The house itself was a light mint green, while the yard around it was sparse in terms of greenery, mostly giving way to the concrete of the city street. Opening the white door revealed that, once again, no one was home. A large build up of mail, and a thin layer of dust revealed that indeed, this house had been empty for quite some time. I didn't have to be Sherlock to spot that one.

Twelve was the first to step in, crouching down to examine the floor before anyone could get their bearings enough to foil the evidence. He took out the usual magnifier that Sherlock had been so fond of using before, before stepping slowly past the coat rack and shabby living room, to the kitchen, his eyes gazing around calculatively the entire time as he feasted his eyes on every clue that presented itself.

"So apparently there's some random case to solve at every place where some loony case splintered reality?" Donna asked into the silence, her voice deafeningly loud as it nested in the quiet.

"That seems to be the case at least," Molly quibbled, biting her bottom lip slightly. "It was Jim, right?"

"Oh, him, him! Of course it's him," Eleven scoffed, glancing at her bewildered face. "I only heard about Moriarty from his mix up with you and a couple mentions from the real Sherlock and Jam."

"I can't believe he-I, stood for being called that," I laughed, following Twelve into the kitchen.

In the time we had clarified the few points, the curly haired Doctor had pulled open the fridge, left its door open, and spilled the frosted contents onto the counter space, where he now was intently examining it. Apparently that contents had been a frosted and bloody body of a little boy. His brown hair that had lost most of its pigment, besides the bits that were caked with dried blood protruding from a bullet hole in the side of his head, a look of terror frozen on the white face.

"He's been kept in there for about five days, no, four. Nine years old, dead mother, normally wears glasses. Where are his glasses? No, more importantly, where is his father? Take a look in the basement, but don't touch any of the evidence until I've taken a look at it," Twelve trailed off, intently looking at the dark gash in the boys head.

Probably the most surprising thing was that no one blinked an eye at the wounded child and his untimely death. They were all so used to death, for they had all touched the Doctor and/or Sherlock. Everyone spread out, as if we were all so accommodated with working with one another.

"I've never heard you use your deducting voice," Jack flirted with Twelve, chuckling slightly. "It brings a whole nother level out."

"Stop it," Ten instructed tiredly.

"It's still you, no need to be jealous," Jack winked, heading off into the basement where Ianto and I were already opening the door down to.

"Don't you get, you know, tired of how he flirts with... everyone?" I asked, mildly amused by how Ianto had barely batted an eye. Of course, we were both use to his constant seducing, that was just part of Jack, but the two of them had been a couple for quite some time now.

"I know he's just kidding around," Ianto shrugged, smiling at my concern. "I mean, it's Jack!"

I laughed once again, taking the first creaky step down the teetering decent, and into the shadowy light cast by the one, a naked bulb hanging at the bottom of the stairs. As my shoes clapped against the ground, the light began to flicker. The silhouette of Ianto's hand tapped the side of the luminous glass, but that didn't seem to help.

"It's cold down here, isn't it?" I asked, watching my breath disappear in the ghastly illumination.

"Incredibly so," Jack murmured, casting his flashlight's shine on the ground as he took a step forward, into the labyrinth of darkness and unknow. As my gaze wandered about, I could have sworn that a blurry figure watching me, from just beyond the flashlight's glare. A quick jerk of the wrist revealed that it was just my breath swerling fantasies into the air.

"I don't see how Twelve's going to be able to deduce anything in this light," I breathed, straining my eyes to pick out the step in front of me. Now even the flashlights were managing to flicker, cheap bulbs were absurdly common these days. They completely failed us, all at once. That wasn't normal, well, compared to anything that's happened since Sherlock became the Doctor it was the most normal thing yet, but that really wasn't saying much.

"I don't see anything at all," Ianto pointed out from somewhere to my left.

"Let's go back up," Jack commanded, even farther away in the blackness.

As I turned, the same figure as before, caught my eye. Glowing slightly in the dark, the translucent spectrum stared at me.

"Dear God," I whispered aloud, suddenly the cold and the flickering lights making sense. Dean and Castiel has been telling us about ghosts right before we split up, the haunting spirits that they would burn the bodies of. Before me, hovered the little boy laying upstairs, watching me with dead eyes.

"T-They're here," he informed me, his voice breathy and hard to catch as a hushed conversation behind a curtain. "Down here, by me." Just as quickly as he had appeared, the little boy disappeared, and the lights flickered on again.

"You both saw that too, right?" Jack questioned, glancing between the two of us.

I felt myself nodding along with Ianto as I rushed to where the boy had been floating. The flashlight skidded out of my hand as I nearly tripped over the two bodies before me. They both could barely be seen in the shadows that made their peeling flesh and multiple shot wounds that looked even more gaunt. One was dressed in rags and tatters, the other a business suit, but both equally dead. After one glance at Jack, I yelled up for Twelve.

"What is it?" Twelve bounded down the stairs and strode towards us. "Oh, yes, figured as much. The contents of his father's room is equally as telling. Jealous lover came to kill her husband and child, who defended themselves enough for that to be his last act. Nothing special about this case, rather disappointing that Moriarty attached a crack in reality to something as simple as this."

"Don't worry; there's plenty more ahead of this," I assured Twelve warily.

"I think we should burn their bodies," Jack announced. "That Dean kid was saying that's how you deal with ghosts and the little boy was here a minute ago. Perhaps that's also the way to close our gap."

"Agreed," Twelve muttered, throwing me a lighter. "Way ahead of you, I've already taken care of the child." Letting loose a blessing for the two men, I bent down and lit them, backing away as the flames grew. Following the other three up, I ascended up to the ground floor and out of the house.

"It's done," I assured them. The group headed out of the little green house, and back into the sunlight. Even as I watched, the shimmering area that represented the crack was shrinking, the edge of the area shimmering as it diminished to nothing.

Suddenly, Lestrade doubled over, his chest spurting blood from an unknown cause. I steadied him in my hands, laying him gently down on the ground.

"What's wrong, what happened?" I asked calmly, trying not to reveal how shaken I was from his sudden wound. This was all so wrong, but I suppose in a reality run by a psychopath, the man with the least amount of reason could understand the most.

"Bullet... I don't know... it's not even here..." Lestrade grunted, gasping for breath.

"Hang on there," I begged him. My eyes revealed a bullet wound, but the culprit itself was missing, as though someone had already removed the lead. No matter how little sense it made, the invisible ammunition had pierced his heart and-yeah, there he went. "Oh god, Greg..."

"That changes the whole basis of the game," Twelve breathed, from somewhere above me. "Not one I'm willing to play."

"Are you even paying attention?" I screamed up at him, tears falling on the Detective Inspector's head. "Lestrade just died! And you're off-"

"I can't care, not now." Twelve replied cooly. "It has never been more essential. Everything is dying and tearing apart, and if I care then he'll kill everyone and everything!"

"But Sherlock-" I tried to point out, my sight blinding with tears.

"And I'm not,Sherlock!" Twelve yelled, striding away as his words echoed in my ear drums.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the lack of update last week, real life got in the way and distracted me. This is what was happening with the other group of characters as they attempted to solve their crack. Please don't mind the random OC 'Willy' in there, I just needed a random unattached character and he's always that for me.**

**This chapters pov:**_ Rose Tyler_

* * *

As we walked onwards, through the empty Victorian street, I couldn't help but feel like a stranger amidst the crowd of friends. Sure, most of them had never seen the others their entire lives, but I was the only person who didn't know a single soul. Sherlock, Jam, and Irene knew each other; Amy, Rory, and River were all one big family; Dean had the Castiel angel; and Douglas and Carolyn worked together on a daily basis. For some reason, I couldn't help but feel that I wasn't with any of the Doctor's on purpose, there was something odd about how Ten had embraced me earlier. At least most of them seemed friendly enough, especially Amy.

"It wasn't a good idea to put all the Doctors in one group," Amy huffed beside me, apparently mirroring my thoughts. "The only one here who knows what they're doing is Sherlock, and he hasn't exactly traveled through time before."

"Couldn't agree more," I groaned, smiling bitterly at the dark haired detective and his friend, who were leading the way. As we walked, I let my mind wander, picking random bits of conversation up that were flying around the group. That was another thing; while the group with the Doctors already seemed like a team, this one was constructed of little groups.

"I just don't think it was a good idea to leave him alone with that one woman-Martha, wasn't it?" Douglas was saying to his friend Carolyn, in a low tone. "You know how he gets around girls..."

"Yes, but would having him jumping realities on one good ankle be any better?" Carolyn replied, snippity; she seemed like a lovely woman to be around. Always seemed to bark things out whenever she bothered to talk at all. Then again, apparently her son had just died. I didn't really know how my mum would get if I died on one of these adventures. Carolyn did seem a lot like Mum, the two should have tea sometime-that is, if one of them didn't bite the other's head off.

"Anyway, how are you doing?" Douglas continued, as I continued to eavesdrop.

"You can't be seriously asking that question right now," Carolyn snapped. "We're bouncing around reality with a bunch of phy-fy morans."

"And-" Douglas muttered despairingly.

"Don't say it," The fiery woman growled before quickening her pace so that the two were up by Sherlock.

Just behind us I could see River and Irene in deep conversations, but they were keeping the voices far too quiet to hear. River, she seemed so odd, a Time Lady who had just killed herself to save the Doctor, apparently, also the Doctor's wife and Rory and Amy's daughter. I didn't know why my stomach turned and my mind reeled every time she called any of the Doctors 'sweetie,' it didn't make any sense. Then again, when did things make sense in my life?

"If you're from the future, where Sam's alive, then he gets brought back again," Dean was saying to Castiel. "Right? Everything's a set event, right?"

"Sorry to intrude; but some things can change, while others can't," I offered my knowledge, well, the little I had picked up from being around the Doctor. "Right now, I don't think anything's set in stone, sorry."

"Damn it," Dean swore, glaring at the ground as though it was its fault.

"Who's Sam?" I questioned, catching Amy's curious eye before she leaned over and said something to Rory.

"My brother," Dean sighed. "He was killed by a skinwalker, if you see anyone replicated, kill it on sight."

"Alright then," I nodded, not voicing my opinion that that seemed a bit harsh.

From in front of us, Sherlock's phone rang. After a pause, he answered. "Mycroft?" A pause as the person on the other end replied. "How are you even managing to use a phone? Reality has Splintered, unless that doesn't include you." Another break in his conceded banter. "Of course you do, well, if you're sure. There's not time for your stupidity, right now, Mycroft-Fine, I suppose you'll see when we've succeeded."

"Mycroft?" Jam piped up from next to him.

"Yes, being as insufferable as usual," Sherlock muttered. "But he's directed me to one of the cases."

"Jolly good," Jam nodded, as the group switched directions, to another empty street. As we went I spotted a woman cowering on the side of the road, her eyes narrowed at us. Sherlock and the rest of the group went right past, some of them not even noticing her. But everyone was important, especially one who had stopped and stayed in a broken reality.

"Hello," I approached, pausing our march, and stooping down next to her. Her mess of brown hair was strewn about in a tangle, the tatters of a maroon dress hinting that at one point it was once as fanciful as the grand gowns that all the other ladies had been wearing, before they had accidently transported onto another splinter.

"Greetings, miss," she smiled worriedly up at me. "I'd stop your friends, if I were you. Those things are still moving about."

"Things?" I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Amy and Rory who had spotted my diversion and joined in. The rest of the group had noticed and stopped, waiting-Sherlock looking extremely annoyed. "What kind?"

"Giant beast with blazing lights, and big, angry, coach wheels," the woman shivered where she sat.

"Hold on, trains?" Amy asked incredulously.

"Call them what you will," she continued, looking up at the red-head next to me with wide eyes. "But they've killed all who walk in their path."

"Trains?" Rory repeated incredulously. "Don't they have to stay on tracks?"

"Usually," Dean shrugged, taking a step towards us. "What's your name?"

"Willy, sir," she smiled up at him, still very shaken. "And you're?"

"Unusual name for this time period," Dean shrugged. "I'm Dean Winchester and this is..."

"I'm Rose," I grinned, rolling my eyes at his cluelessness.

"Lots of people, there isn't really time for introductions, are there?" Willy chuckled slightly. "But you said you were a Winchester?"

"A Winchester? You know my family?" Dean raised his eyebrows, giving the quivering girl another look over.

"No, a friend does though," Willy smiled uncomfortably, her face quickly morphing to horror. "Here the beast comes again! Run!" She pointed a gloved finger towards a gigantic, grey train, dull dozing towards us at top speed. My muscles tensed and I began to bolt away.

"Stop," Sherlock hissed loudly, grabbing my arm along with a few others who had tried to run. "We're safest by Willy."

"Why on earth would we be-" River started haughtily.

"Because Willy's dress is shredded too neatly and her friend doesn't want to hurt her," Sherlock smirked, his gaze locked with Willy's.

Willy quickly lost her look of horror and sighed melodramatically. "How could you tell?"

Sherlock's smirk largened into an actual smile, the first I had seen so far. He was so full of himself, I could barely stand it. "As I mentioned before, your dress is cleanly shredded, you haven't been in any real danger lately. You also didn't comment on how otherworldly we were, so you must be use to a time in the future but be disguised into this time zone. On top of that you mentioned your friend who knew the name 'Winchester,' already knowing that you were so knowledgeable about the reality splinters, it wasn't hard to workout that your friend was some sort of supernatural being creating the train. Plus there was the obvious fact that you weren't talking at all appropriate to the time period. Elementary, really."

"Brilliant," John sighed, shaking his head tiredly.

"Shut up," Carolyn barked at John, her face going white.

John glanced at her confusedly, but didn't say another word.

"Full marks," Willy sighed, just as exhausted. She stood up and brushed herself off irritably.

"Then who is your friend?" Dean questioned. "Have I met it before?"

"Depends on where on the timeline you come from, doesn't it?" Willy speculated crossly, folding her arms in front of her, and glaring at Dean.

"Oh they know me!" a new voice chucked, as a buoyant, smiling man stepped out from behind the building Willy had been cowering under. He was a lot shorter than I expected most supernatural beings to be, with a half eaten chocolate bar in his hand. "Hey Dean, hi bro."

"You-you died," Dean laughed hollowly, shaking his head incredulously. "Black wings burned to the ground and everything."

"If you haven't noticed, Dean-o boy, times a bit whacked, so you're probably referring to sometime ahead of me," the stranger chided. "Lots of spoilers involved. But, as you can see, very much alive, and enjoying the forecast of utter chaos."

"Sorry to rain on your parade, but you better stop your train deal," Dean growled. "Everyone, this is Gabriel. Gabriel, everyone."

"Sure I can stop the train, I've got plenty of other stuff up my sleeve, just getting started," Gabriel grinned widely, winking. "The apocalypse canceled in all this confusion and the whole family, besides insane little Cassy, occupied with trying to figure out what the hells going on!"

"I don't think so," Dean laughed. "You're going to stop going around killing people."

"Hold on, hold on," Gabriel narrowed his eyes, his smile finally lost. "There's you and Castiel, but where's your little brother?"

"That doesn't matter," Dean spat, his eyes glinting. "You have to-"

"I don't have to do anything," Gabriel chuckled dryly. "Where's Sam?"

"He died!" Dean bellowed at the archangel. "Happy? So stop your cute, little, deadly, games!"

"Oh," Gabriel breathed, his eyebrows furrowing as he lost his cheery look all together. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah right," Dean responded incredulously.

"No really," Gabriel murmured, actual tears streaming down the angel's face. "Oh Sammy..."

"Wow, well then, wasn't expecting that," Dean breathed, glancing confusedly at Gabriel. "You'll stop then."

"Fine, sure," Gabriel shrugged, half heartedly. "Come on Willy." He put a hand on his companion's shoulder and the two of them disappeared.

"Well," Amy proclaimed. "That was easy."

"But why would he care?" Dean yelled into the sky, no one having an appropriate answer. As he spoke, I saw the area next to where they had disappeared glimmer, another crack. While I watched, the shining area closed up into nothing was left.

"There goes a crack," I announced, happily. Suddenly, my stomach lurched and I felt my head spin as I fell to the ground. On my hands and knees, a sickening burning spread through my throat. I felt a wad of something stuck in the back of my passage, blocking most of my air. Reeling forward, I spat out a wad of blood, clearing it from my system.

"Are you alright?" Jam knelt beside me, gently feeling my forehead. "You're burning up."

"I'm fine," I wheezed, attempting to stand, even though everything was so blurred and dizzy. "Really."

"We need to get her back to the base," Jam insisted, suddenly taking charge as he scooped an arm under my shoulder to help my stance. "Hopefully the others will be having the same idea." Barely hanging onto his words, Jam prompted my feet forward, back to where Martin was already under care.


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapters pov:**_ River Song_

**_10/20_**

* * *

Our oddball group managed to bring Rose back to our base, even after she passed out there were no real difficulties. We had closed up a crack, though, that I was certain of. Also, there was Rose's strange and sudden sickness, supposedly the two were connected. If only that Irene woman would leave me alone so I could think properly. A drizzle had wetted the chilly air, but luckily we were all inside before it became a flood of water.

The base that Eleven had founded served its purpose. Who ever had owned it, possessed enough money for five bedrooms, a kitchen, dining room, drawing room, and two bathrooms. In our absence Martha had set Martin up in one of the bathrooms, where he was now sleeping. She had also recovered some basic first-aid supplies, as primitive as they were from this time. Immediately, Jam had set Rose up in one of them empty bedrooms, where he hadn't emerged since. At this point, everyone was in the drawing room, sitting, pacing, or in Sherlock's case, taking up the whole couch as he lay there. I leaned against the entryway, checking my gun over, and trying to puzzle the whole mess out.

"How is she?" I asked Amy in a hushed tone, who had just come from Rose's new room.

Amy shook her head, sighing. "I honestly don't know. Not usual, is it? A disease coming out of nowhere like that."

"I've seen a few in my days," I shrugged, pursing my lips. "But nothing that dwells on Earth."

"She seems really bad, though," Amy admitted, her voice falling even quieter. "I'm no doctor, but I've never seen any sort of sickness get this intense, this quickly. What are we even doing here? Waiting for the others to return? Neither Jam nor Martha can really help Rose and Martin with the little supplies we have."

"Hopefully the Doctor's picked up some medicine," I murmured, more confidently than I felt. There wasn't much chance they were going to be able to get back through to us, unless Moriarty wanted us all together it would be a miracle. I think we all just required a chance to breath and think. Chances were, if we went out again, it wouldn't be quite so easy to find our way back here. We needed to get our bearings before that happened.

Honk! Honk! Something sounded outside. A car horn, in the middle of a Victorian splinter that was nearly empty of moving life. Perhaps he had come back after all. Along with Dean, Jam, and Sherlock, I raced out into the muddy streets, my hair soaking up the raindrops that caught in my curls. On the road, a black Chevy Impala waited, the driver no other than the same Gabriel who had been running people over with trains a minute ago.

"Baby!" Dean breathed, actual tears glinting in his eyes as he rushed forward, apparently referring to the car and not the driver. He leaned forward and stroked the hood.

"Found 'er lying about and figured that you would need your ride back," the archangel shrugged, getting out of the vehicle, and slamming the door behind him. "Especially if you're trying to take down that big boss who's got reality under his thumb."

"Moriarty?" I clarified, glaring untrustingly at him.

"Yeah, that guy," Gabriel replied, his tone uninterested. "Anyway, good luck and all that. So long! Oh, and you've got company." Again, he vanished from view, leaving us with a tearful Dean and the car.

Narrowing my eyes, I scanned our surrounding area for anyone else. Not even attempting to hide, a tall, blond man, advanced towards us, his strut almost casual. In his mouth was a lit cigarette and on his back was a giant rifle. Even though he wasn't making a move towards his weapon, I still loaded my pistol and aimed.

"Moran," Sherlock warned us. Was there anything this man didn't know? "Moriarty's man."

"Sherlock, John, Dean, and River," Moran sneered. "Put the gun away, not much use while Jim's God, is it?"

"I suppose not," I replied evenly, but still not dropping my gun.

"Do you have a message?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"You really don't understand the utter control he has," Moran laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I've got a forecast for you. Your other group's going to come back with the dead, and that sick woman you've got won't last much longer. Because you know what? The faster you solve all those puzzles, the faster you all die."

A gunshot rang through the rain. A bullet dove through the air, from Jam's barrel, and into Moran's head. The confident man fell backwards, dead.

"He'd delivered his message," Jam muttered through a clenched jaw. "Turns out he's not so-Arg!" Jam doubled over where he stood, a moment of agony across his face. Sherlock dove forward, catching Jam before he hit the floor. "Sh-Sherlock..." Jam breathed, his gaze locked with the detective's. Suddenly, his eyes misted over, still locked with his flatmate's.

"John..." Sherlock muttered, his voice rising to a howl that cut through the rain and shattering the peace more successfully than the gunshot. "John!"


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapters pov:**_ The Tenth Doctor_

* * *

"Everyone into the TARDIS, here we go," I directed, closing the doors behind myself and walking into the TARDIS that was still partially the Ninth Doctor's and partially mine. Just another jumble of wibbly-wobbly in this nonsensical reality. But even if this version of her wasn't completely mine, it was still calming to be back in the ship's belly. "Everyone still have their buddies?"

"Ready to go," Jack grinned, giving a thumb up as he clutched Ianto to his side with the other hand. "Good thing we still had the TARDIS in reach."

"Good thing," Nine agreed, nodding along. "Now we get back and meet up with the others." He brought the old girl into motion.

We were all huddled in the main control room. Eleven and Nine were already pushing buttons and twisting bobbles, in attempt to make a very tricky landing on the right splinter. Twelve was still pacing back and forth, his brow furrowed in concentration, seemingly not at all perturbed by his friend's death. John on the other hand was sitting in the corner, mourning enough for the both of them. Before leaving, he had even asked whether they could give him a proper burial, that was solemnly denied, we had to keep moving. That was the thing about being the Doctor, any one of us had death waking in our path, but we never stayed for the aftermath.

"And here we are!" Eleven announced, throwing the doors open, and stepping outside, where we were positioned in front of the base. We were also next to a classic Chevy Impala that could never have come from this time.

"Ah, that was tricky," Nine commented, smiling up at the house. "Didn't think we'd be able to get back here." Without further ado, we poured into the house, which suddenly felt a lot smaller with twenty so people in the one room. As soon as we got into the room, everyone started talking at once.

"I'm so glad you're back, there was barely any chance you could make your way back."

"It felt so weird without you, Doctor."

"Oh my gosh, everything's just so wibbly wobbly without you."

"You missed a freaking archangel on our split up."

"Will everyone just shut up!" Sherlock was the first one who I could put a name to the voice, amidst the confusion. Luckily, he managed to get everyone to quiet down with his rudeness. "I assume you've come to the same conclusion, Twelve, about the deaths, that is." Suddenly the silence that he had managed, grew even thicker, and someone let loose a sob.

"Afraid so," Twelve nodded warily, glancing at the group around who were hanging at their every word. Oh, they meant Lestrade's mystery bullet.

"You don't mean..." I trailed off, raising my eyebrows. It was so obvious, the truth that no one in this room wanted to believe. Lestrade's death hadn't been an accident, and if the other group had someone die after sealing the crack, the only possible explanation was that these deaths happened when we solved a case. "What happened? Who's dead?"

"Well," Amy bit her lip, glancing at me through tired, red, eyes. "Jam's dead, he killed Moran. Moriarty wasn't very pleased about that. And... Rose is sick."

I didn't answer, just left the crowded room, and dove into one of the bedrooms where Martha was tending to Rose. Rose lay in her bed, her face a light greenish shade, covers pulled up to her chin, and eyes closed.

"I'm so sorry," Martha murmured, gazing up at me. "We're-I mean, I'm doing everything I can to help, but it's like nothing I've even seen before. And we don't have any of the proper equipment in this time period."

"I'll get some," I nodded distractedly, gazing at Rose's withered being one more time. She wasn't going to die, no one else was if I could help it. I strode out of the room, glancing around the partially emptied room. "Where has everyone gone?"

"The other Doctors and River are discussing some sort of hold up with the deaths," Donna clarified, from where she sat on a cushioned chair. "They said you're welcome to join them if you have the mind."

"I'm going to get some medical supplies," I said, grabbing my coat. "Let them know if they ask, I'll be right back."

Without waiting for her response, I dashed out of the door. My footsteps thudded against the ground, drumming a rythem that reminded me that time was likely running out for Rose. I sprinted into the TARDIS. Perhaps I wasn't as surprised as I should have been at the scrape of footsteps, or the rolling laughter that echoed through the room.

"You're not even the Doctor traveling with her," Moriarty taunted, grinning wickedly as he stepped out of the shadows. "Yet you're the quickest to dance."

"What have you done to Rose?" I breathed through clenched teeth, my hands poised at the controls, but not acting.

"Just gave her the roll of your dice, in this game," Jim's voice bounced back and forth, his hands casually in his pockets. "Your lot was the ones to make the move, that's what really killed her."

"She's not dead," I growled, hating that the madman strolled right in front of me, yet I couldn't touch him. That was the god code, acting as the ultimate dictator.

"Not yet, maybe," His cold eyes met mine, pits of blackness, the pupils that of a hungry snake. "But how long do you think she'll last? One day, two if I'm feeling charitable."

"Kill me instead," I snapped, the words breathing electricity that sizzled through the air, grabbing Jim's waning attention.

"Kill you? I could do that as easily as snapping my fingers, not much of a bargaining chip. But if you're begging for it, I can do that."

"And keep her alive," I insisted, my eyes still locked with his, that had gained a happy gleam to them in the turn of conversation. "That's the deal."

"Not so much, but here you go," Moriarty whistled, sneering slightly as he disappeared. Suddenly my head swelled with pain, throbbing dizziness and my throat burned. Collapsing to the ground, I rolled to my side. My eyes in slits, I could just make out the TARDIS door. If I was in any other position it would seem almost funny, after all the places I went to, and all the tight corners, a psychopath spreading disease was going to be the thing to kill me. Right now, I wasn't going to be stupid enough to worry about regenerating, there was no chance of that opportunity with Moriarty in control. I didn't even have the strength to open the door and find the other's to let them know. Dead on the ground, that was what was just waiting to happen. Why was I even hanging onto consciousness...

The TARDIS door swung open, Nine's feet barely visible in front of me.

"Ten?" Nine sputtered, crouching down beside me.

At this point I didn't even have the energy to keep my eyes open, much less say anything. But I attempted to do so, barely making a noise. "Nrgg," was probably what it sounded like. That was the last thing I managed before I lost sight of consciousness.


	12. Chapter 12

**This chapters pov:**_ Douglas Richardson_

* * *

"Are you doing alright, Martin?" I asked, my voice hushed more than normal as I entered his resting quarters.

"Fine, thanks," Martin smiled tiredly, well, more like grimaced, which wasn't very reassuring. He was sitting, propped in bed, apparently trying to eavesdrop on those outside. "What was the commotion about?"

I walked forward in silence, my eyes meeting his, as I took a chair beside him. "That Tenth Doctor chap was found dead on the TARDIS a bit ago," I finally revealed, the wait hanging too heavy in the air. "It seems that he died from the same thing that Rose is suffering under."

"Oh..." Martin sighed morosely. "Does that mean...?"

"We're hoping not, but I think it's basically been decided that we stay put till she drops out," I reasoned gloomily, my gaze locked on the window, where the rain had finally stopped.

"All this death and time travel and end of the world," Martin murmured, glancing out the window to see what I was watching. "It's so desolate and weird. I suppose it must be even harsher on the front line."

"Well, I dunno, we met an archangel, that has to count for something," I shrugged, trying to give a bit lighter atmosphere to the dark room.

"I just don't know," Martin sighed. "I'm sorry for crashing in the first place and landing us in this mess."

"Martin, it wasn't your fault," I snapped rather harshly, because he hadn't been in control right then, perhaps he had it in his mind that being the captain made it his fault, but if anyone was to blame, it would be me. My mistakes had crashed the aeroplane and my fault was to blame for Arthur's death, Martin's injuries, and the fold of MJN Air. And I wished he would stop accusing himself of the deed. "You weren't even flying her at the time."

"Douglas, I was-" Martin started, but I didn't give him the chance to keep talking, instead I walked right out of that room. The atmosphere was still as desperate and high-strung, where most everyone else was huddled. The Doctors, Sherlock, and River were all gathered in some room having a discussion on our position. Carolyn had suggested I joined them, but I wasn't ready to looking like a fool next to all those time travelers who knew what the hell they were talking about when they said 'reality has splintered.' Meanwhile she, along with a few others like Mickey and Donna, had gone to get some shut eye. Ianto, Jack, and Rory were managing their way around the prehistoric kitchen, cooking up something for us to all eat. Everyone else was milling about in the common space or looking after Rose, unable to sleep, and unwilling to get in the four so called chefs' way.

Tentative, since I barely knew the girl, I entered the room Rose was resting in. The only other four already there, were Nine, Martha, Amy, and obviously the patient herself. Amy was kneeling by Rose's head on the far corner, while Nine crouched on the closer side. Martha stood behind him as he whispered something to her. To my surprise, Rose was awake, looking feeble, but conscious all the same.

"You're a brilliant doctor," Nine was praising, in a whisper. "Thank you so much."

"Of course," Martha grinned back. "Is there anything I can get you Rose?"

"Just some more water," Rose croaked, attempting a smile but failing miserably.

"Feeling any better?" I asked, feeling alien in a room full of friends. Well, at least they seemed close, for all I know they had just clicked the moment their splinters had bumped together.

"A lot, thank you," Rose nodded weakly, her eyes still holding a gleam as she met my gaze. "You're Douglas, right? Sorry your lot got pulled into all of this, from your normal lives."

"It's alright," I answered warily, shrugging. "Just glad you're doing better."

"It's a miracle, really," Amy whispered, leaning her head against Rose's. "Even the fever's gone down."

* * *

Despite the fact that everyone knew we didn't have the actual time to do it, when the sun rose and Rose's sickness had taken the fight to a level she couldn't stand, we all took a moment to properly bury or at least honor those who had died and not gotten a proper burial. Arthur, Melody, Lestrade, Jam, Ten, and Rose. They all deserved their own ceremonies, that was certain. But I suppose that's war, when the toll was up too high and the death was measured in numbers rather than lives. If it hadn't been so depressing, the whole scene would seem graceful and beautiful, with the different gravestones that were each decked with candles and flowers.

The whole thing was lead in order of deaths, which of course meant that Arthur was first. Again, all my fault. That cheerful, buoyant smile, sputtering brilliant at every new thing that passed his way, the constant little boy that managed to not grow up between his harsh mother and awful father. Carolyn said a few words, but I couldn't bring myself to listen, only stare at the candles lit at his grave, and cry. Although in the long run, it felt like the tears were more forced out, because I hadn't really accepted his death, it wasn't something I could digest, with his cheerful smile and... gone, it was all gone because of me.

Next was Melody, who I didn't really know, but apparently was a past version of River, and the children of Amy and Rory. There was many tears shed, which I managed to take in a bit better since I wasn't so blinded by my shock.

By the time we got to Jam's, I hadn't managed to pick out John's mutterings before the ceremony. "It's like being at my own funeral." It did seem rather odd, with another version of him crying along with us. His friend, Sherlock, seemed like some sort of solemn robot, staring ahead into the nothing with a cold fire burning in his eyes. Of course, I didn't really know the chap, but if I were to guess anything, it was that he was more wrecked by this death than anyone was from the fallen seven.

Ten and Rose's ceremony had been done together, something agreed upon by the Doctors and a few companions, who had known them the best. It was mind boggling how the two older Doctors could look over their own grave, alive and breathing. That was the reality we lived in, I guess.

Frankly, it was something of a relief when Sherlock's phone interrupted our mourning afterwards. I'm sure I wasn't the only one, but a few could have probably used a few more hours crying-or at least rest.

"Mycroft," Sherlock greeted, his tone producing a new chilled edge I hadn't heard before. There was a drawn out pause. "Do you have coordinates, then?" Sherlock made to hang up but then paused. "No, of course I'm not-No, you idiot, don't you have a cake to attend to?" With those words he testily hung up and stuffed the mobile phone into his coat pocket. "Mycroft's figured out the coordinates where the next crack is. Anyone who needs rest should stay put, which would be all the Doctors and River at the least. Things are only going to get more complicated and everyone needs to be in top condition."

"Right you are," Eleven agreed worriedly, clapping his hands together. "You should rest as well."

"I don't need sleep," Sherlock brushed up impatiently, the same fire burning in his eyes.

"Everyone needs-" Eleven objected.

"He's fine, he works better on lack of rest," John clarified, glancing at Sherlock who met his eyes for a fraction of a second, before looking away uncomfortably.

"Well, I'm certainly ready to go," Amy pointed out, placing a hand on her hip. "If anyone else needs to rest up, get back in the base. And don't pretend 'for the greater good,' we've got plenty of people, best to slumber while we can."

Already put under the spotlight, the Doctors filed in with the exception of Nine, along with River, Martin, all of Torchwood, Irene, and Carolyn. Leaving Mickey, Martha, Dean, Castiel, Molly, Donna, Sherlock, Nine, the Ponds, and myself.

"That certainly worked," Donna mused, smiling at her fellow red-head "Off we go, then?"

"Hold on, you need rest too, Nine," Rory pointed out.

"I'll be fine," Nine shrugged, his whole body portraying the image of dismal despair. "You need someone to fly the TARDIS to the rondevu."

"True," Rory agreed, setting off into the blue box. Supposedly, this was the famous device that could travel through time and space, even before reality went all screwy. Following the crowd, I stepped into the TARDIS.

"It's bigger on the inside," I breathed, my mouth hanging open wide enough to stick a lemon into. Oh, God, Arthur would have loved this.

"That it is," Nine smiled feebly, twisting some knobs and pushing some buttons to send us whirling into motion. The world around us was full of the racket of the time machine landing, until we finally came to a stop. The door opened to reveal that we had landed in the middle of nowhere, two roads meeting together in a desolate patch of flat land that stretched on wards for as long as I could see.

"Oh, this is too simple," Dean breathed, marching forward and promptly digging a hole in the middle of the crossroads.

"He's quite alright, in the head, I mean?" I asked his friend Cas, who was watching intently.

"He possesses more sanity then I do," the angel assured me.

"Great," I muttered under my breath, as Dean pulled up a box triumphantly.

"Crossroads demon," Dean announced. "When someone's stupid enough to trade their soul for something or someone else."

"Someone?" I repeated, my ears perking up. There had to be a catch, had to be some impossible drawback besides the soul exchange.

"Yeah, big ceremony thing," Dean informed us. "One of us-not me, because they don't trust me at this point-will have to trap the demon in a special symbol and convince them to break the deal with this person." Dean held out a picture in the box.

"I'll do it," I volunteered, to everyone's surprise. There were nods and encouraging words, but all I could really hear was the blood pounding in my ear and the replaying thought; It was all your fault, you crashed the plane, he's dead because of you...

* * *

"Surprised anyone's taking the time to do this while there's hell on earth," A man in a suit crooned, raising an eyebrow. Not a man, I reminded myself, a demon. In fact, he matched the description of one in particular that Dean had told me about; Crowley, the king of Hell. He was also smiling, a knowing smile of someone as slippery as a snake, who was quite aware of his advantage. "Don't worry, I know about your cute little friends' plan. But I also wouldn't have come if you weren't really interested."

I said nothing, my gaze locked with his.

"Although, time's rather unstable right now, and I'd have to collect your soul right away," he continued, also holding my glare. "It's for your little friend, right? Arthur. He'll be back alive with his whole life in front of him, even if you won't be around. After all, it was your fault."

"The deal would also seal the crack?" I asked hesitantly, narrowing my eyes.

"Of course," Crowley agreed, his smile growing slightly larger.

"I'm in," I breathed, after a pause. This was it, fixing the crash to how it should have been, giving the crew back its one sparkling light that it needed so desperately.

"Pucker up, we seal it with a kiss."


	13. Chapter 13

**13/20**

**Point of view:** _Rory Pond_

* * *

It was perfectly obvious what Douglas had done, as soon as the confused, rosy-faced man named Arthur walked into view. Well, I was a bit confused, but Dean swore under his breath at the sight.

"He won't know any of us," Martha reminded the group, as he came even closer.

"Hello, excuse me, am I still in Heaven?" Arthur asked us confusedly, glancing around in the dim light.

"No, sorry," Dean clarified. "Your friend Douglas brought you back."

"Oh, that's brilliant!" A wide smile split the young man's face. "Where is he? Or Mum, or Martin, for that matter."

"Well... your Mum and Martin are resting at our camp," Molly told him kindly, breaking the silence that followed his words. "We can go back and drop him off, right?"

"Yeah, that would-" Nine paused, his gaze locked on a spot in the air, where a crack in reality was closing up. "Here we go."

"What do you mean, 'here we go'? What's-" Dean sputtered, interrupted as Amy fell back onto the ground making some sort of gagging noise.

Instantly, I bent down next to her, feeling her pulse. "What did you mean 'here we go'?" I repeated steely. "Did you know this was going to happen, Nine?"

"I'm so sorry, Rory," he sighed mournfully.

"Amy's still breathing," I ignored him, pointedly. "Let's get back to base." I lifted her up, off of the city road, and brought her back to the TARDIS before anyone could object. Perhaps Nine had muttered something about her being alive not possible, but I didn't want to focus on that right now. I need to get her back. She had gone through so much more than this, through time and space, I was going to pull her through this one too. Not objecting to my actions, the rest followed me into the TARIDS, our home, really.

********"It's bigger on the inside, brilliant!" Arthur exclaimed, to a rather frazzled Nine. The Doctor still managed a small smile as he rushed everyone in.********

As soon as the last person stepped into the blue box, it started up, rocketing back and forth, and emitting several bangs and crashes.

"No! No! Don't do that!" Nine objected, fidgeting with the controls, that gave no compliance. "Well, it's crashed us wherever, here is."

Sherlock's phone rang, as we all looked uneasily around at each other. Sighing, the detective picked up his phone.

"Hello, yes of course I'm aware of that, Mycroft," Sherlock huffed into the device. "Alright, that's where we are-Mycroft? Mycroft?" He erupted in a huff of annoyance and something else... "His line's gone dead. Moriarty got to him."

"Oh," Molly murmured sadly. "I'm so sorry."

Sherlock said nothing, but instead stalked over to the doors and flung them open to reveal small, tropical, island. Well, hopefully we weren't stuck here, because Amy needed help, she had to get back to the-

"Rory?" she croaked, her eyes fluttering open.

"Amy, are you alright?" I asked, looking down at my wife who was still tucked in my arms.

"Humf, is Amy alright? Well, you'd have to ask her, I'm not in her head," Amy huffed, pushing me away so she stood on her hands. "Why do you care about a fly so much anyway?"

"Um..." I staggered back slightly. What the hell was she talking about? Was she screwing around or...?

"Oh dear," Nine muttered, glancing at Amy as he took a step out. "We need to quickly solve this case and get back to base. Amy and Arthur, stay in the TARDIS, we'll figure out what's going on and get back here." He got out of the blue box. "Come on, let's get on with it. Too many people are dying for just standing around."

"Amy's just a fly, don't know how you're going to get her to stay on a spaceship," Amy muttered.

"He's saying you should stay here," I hissed, not knowing what was going on. Amy nodded in response to my clarification, and everyone else exited. I could just make out Arthur saying something about brilliance, before the door closed behind me.

"Shouldn't be too far from here," Sherlock was saying, cutting a path through the brush and away from the TARDIS. "Ah."

Ahead of us, I could clearly see two figures in a clearing, next to a burning plane. The first sparked memories long ago forgotten, its gaunt face focused away so we couldn't see its gaping eyes. A Silence, all of it's attention focused on the woman in front of him. She was wearing a pair of aviator goggles and a hat, along with a leather jacket and jeans. In her hands were some utility scissors that she brandished at the Silence. But perhaps the most surprising thing of all, was that I knew her.

"Amelia Earhart," Nine breathed.

"And Silence," I groaned. Eleven heads swiveled my way questioningly.

"And what?" Mickey asked.

"Silence, that creature there," I remarked, putting a tally on my arm. "You forgot about them when you look away, so keep track of them by tallying yourself. We need to help her."

The Silence turned it's ugly face towards us, raising a hand it shot the electricity through its long, menacing fingers and-Bang!

The shot rang through the air, a bullet flew into the Silence's chest, and Dean put the gun back into his pocket.

"You had to shoot it!" Nine roared, glaring at the american. "It probably wasn't going to hurt us!"

"Looked pretty threatening to me," Dean shrugged, glancing at me.

"They were about to kill us," I assured everyone. "You'll have plenty of time to get screwed with them later, Doctor."

Amelia came rushing towards us. "You have to get me out of here, there's plenty more and for some reason they're all trying to kill me," she said in one rush of words, jugging up to us. But she didn't have a look of terror lingering on her face, instead it was an excited gleam in her eyes and a smile. "If that's alright with you, that is."

"Fine! Of course that's fine!" Nine ushered her into the TARDIS, along with the rest of us. "Rory, how much trouble is she in?"

"If I was her, I'd change her name and look and time period," I replied, leaning against the phone box's wall. "It'll take a lot to escape the silence."

Suddenly, Amy came rushing out of the TARDIS, her limbs flailing and her eyes wild.

"Amy!" I screamed after her, rushing to keep up as she bounded through the woods, past the clearing, and to the edge of a cliff.

"I left the fly inside," she assured me, taking a step forward so her toes were dangling off the edge and above the churning water hundreds of feet below.

.

"S-step away from there," I murmured hoarsely, slowly walking towards Amy.

"Do I know you?" my wife asked accusingly. "Anyway, it's alright. You can see my wings, you'll see how I soar back up." With those words, she took another step and plummeted off the edge.

"No!" I howled, scampering forward and leaning off the side, grasping for her hands that were long gone. "Amy! No-you can't have!" Tears flew from my eyes as strong hands tore me away from the edge. I struggled, shoving and twisting and kicking. Amy would come back, she'd be alright, because she went through every freaking twist and turn that came her way through all of time and space. She couldn't just jump, her brain suddenly crumpling into insanity because of unknown reasons, she was Amy!

"Come on, Rory," Nine commanded, tearing me away from the edge that I was so close to jumping off of as well, because she'd be at the bottom, waiting for me and commenting on how slow I took to get down there. "Let's get you back on."

"No! We're not going to leave her here!" I cried out, along with many nonsensical babbles that I couldn't identify. He forced me through the doors and locked them behind me. "No! No! No..." I pounded on the door, the clatter falling deaf to my ears.

"Nine, Martha just fell down dead!" I could barely hear Donna's voice announce. I sunk onto the floor, continuing my useless pounding.

Nine continued to push and prod the controls into place to get us back.

"Doctor, are you listening to me!" Donna shouted into his face. "Where is Amy?"

"Gone," I muttered hoarsely, still hammering the door uselessly.

"Gone?" Donna gaped. "Why is everyone dying?"

"Because we keep solving the cases!" Nine suddenly roared into the TARDIS. "We keep playing into Moriarty's hand and he keeps killing everyone off because it's all one bloody game! But what can we do Donna? Sit here and watch reality rip itself to shreds." His voice died into a whisper as the TARDIS whirled into motion. "What can we do...?"

* * *

**Meanwhile everyone's dying, what else is new in Splinters? Well, you've all caught up to the point I've written out during the summer during my crazy chapter-a-day thing. There should be one week of silence, as I sort out a couple other smaller things I'll upload soon, but after that I'll start writing again. Thank you all!  
**


	14. Recap

**Recap:** _It's been brought to my attention that everyone could use a little recap of what's going on since it gets super confusing with all these people. Feel free to skip this if you've understood everything so far._

* * *

_**Deaths:** Okay, so since there's been a lot of deaths, here's who's passed away(from order of death): Gwen, Sam, Melody(but later version of River's still alive), Lestrade, Jam(or Sherlock's version of John), Ten, Rose, Douglas(which brought Arthur back to life), Mycroft, Martha, and Amy._

_**Alive:** Which mak_es_ John(the Torchwood/Doctor's John), Jack, Ianto, Twelve, Mickey, Rory, Eleven, Molly, Nine, River, Sherlock, Irene, Martin, Arthur, and Carolyn all alive. And for those of you who don't know, the demon deal traded Douglas's life and soul, to resurrect Arthur._

_**Duplicates: **At this point there's only one duplicate; Sherlock and Twelve. (Unless you count the seprate Doctor's as duplicates) The only other ones that existed, have died out, making them two; Melody died, making their only be one River; Jam died, making their only be one John.  
_

_**Groups:** Right now they are split into two different groups that are about to join back together. One group went to fix the crack involving the crossroads demon which lead to the Amelia Earhart crack, which was Mickey, Molly, Donna, Sherlock, Rory, Dean, Castiel, Nine, and Douglas-which later added Arthur. The other group stayed behind to get some shut eye, because it's near impossible to play 18+ main characters without confusing everything, this group was Martin, Twelve, Eleven, River, Irene, John, Jack, Ianto, Carolyn._

_**Transport**: They still have the TARDIS, their own two feet, and Gabriel found the Impala and gave it too them._

_**Plot: **I'm not going to go through every detail of this complicated plot, but I will put to light what may seem confusing. First off, a rather simple thing, the Impala's radio system randomly turning on, and Dean's discomfort of it-that will soon come to light. Secondly, and more importantly, as you might have guessed-every time they solve a case, not only does that seal one of the cracks in reality, but it also kills one of the characters off. This is what Nine was ranting about last chapter.__  
_

_**More questions?** Let me know through a review or PM and I'd be happy to address it on here. Even if I've added more chapters after this, I'll update this with your questions in less then a week. Thank you anon for letting me know some explanation was necessary. _


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the late update, insane weekend. But here's the promised chapter!**

**Point of View: **Irene Adler.

* * *

It seemed as though nearly everyone knew that another death or two had taken place as the forlorn group filed into the base. They were catching on, but all too slowly. Time was ticking by ever so slowly, a force that only mattered from our linear perspective-the time that Jim Moriarty took care of.

"Who?" Twelve uttered, his similarity to the real Sherlock unnerving. With his sharp cheekbones and curly bush of hair...But the paleness I was all too familiar with wasn't from the usual coldness that seemed to stir around him, but from the worry about the name that slipped from Nine's lips. A small group of the people who had stayed behind resting were gathered in the living room, namely the Doctors and myself.

"Douglas, Martha, and Amy," Nine uttered, sighing mournfully. He leaned up against the wall, closing his eyes, his brow furrowed.

"No...no," Eleven repeated, his face contorting into an image and pain and tears, his mouth opened in a gasping sob, before he reached up to cover his mouth. "Not her, not again... And Martha... oh god, she was one of the few to escape."

Twelve's reaction was perhaps just as defeating to watch. His eyes widened in disbelief, he took in several sharp breaths before sitting down in an armchair by his left side. His hands reached up, but instead of taking their normal position, poised under his chin, they reached up to bury his face. A mangled sob escaped his lips. Needless to say, we were then left with one hard faced Time Lord, while the other two bawled.

Another life gone. Another tick of the clock. How many lives would spin away until they realized how useless this whole charade was? Until the life that mattered the most was on the line? Well, to me, of course-frankly none of us could be named as the most important in this situation. Would they even help once they figured the plot twist out? Perhaps I was just better off doing the entire thing on my own accord-as dumb as that was. No, I would only go that far if things looked like there was no other way for her to escape.

"We have to stop dancing," Nine announced bleakly, his hands in fists, and his eyes slits of anger. "Too many people have died. This isn't going to end unless we lead it."

"Yes, yes, of course," Twelve choked out, rising from his chair. Tears were still falling, but he seemed more in control now...

I rose, pacing towards the window, and looking out at the desolate street.

"Are you alright?" A tiny, stuttering voice questioned from behind me. I tensed, as she had managed to sneak behind me without a detectable noise.

"Molly, was it?" I murmured, turning with a smile.

Tiny frame, didn't get to get out much-as shown by the lack of exercise and tan. Most likely worked in an office space, but the cool she was managing to hold lead to the conclusion that she was familiar to death and the departed; worked in the morgue? Ah yes, Sherlock must have needed a hand pulling off his stunt at St. Barts.

"Yes," She nodded, her mousy hair contained in a ponytail that wobbled on her head as her head bobbed up and down. "And you're Irene?"

"Yes," I replied evenly, glancing over her shoulder, where the Doctor's and most of the away team had departed to the other rooms for the time being.

"When you think none of us are looking... you look sad," Molly mumbled, biting her bottom lip. She could definitely use a self esteem boost. If we weren't so busy I would definitely have made time for her. "W-when Sherlock was going to die-he looked sad."

"You're clever, Molly," I muttered, tilting my chin up at her.

She blushed rose red. "Not really..."

"I have to go and see someone," I breathed, turning back to the window. "Save someone."

"Who?" Molly asked, her naive little voice a breath of fresh air.

"Her name's Kate," I explained, sighing. "And I doubt she'll make it out of this alive. Please don't tell the other's I'm gone? Not until an hour or so has passed, something may have gone wrong."

"Be careful," Molly pipped up. "Are you sure you won't need any help?"

"And you're sweet," I continued her character analyses, walking towards the door. "No, I'll be fine. It's simply a matter of whether Moriarty will be expecting me." I turned, away from her hesitant features, to the door in front of me. I needed to leave. Kate needed me.

"This doesn't seem like a very good idea," Molly voiced, standing awkwardly beside me.

"Doesn't matter all that much," I admitted. "I still have to go for it." With those words, I reached forward and kissed her on the lips.

"Uh," stunned little Molly stuttered. And that's all she had time to say before I rushed out the door, a sigh upon my mind, and a smile playing on my lips.

The wind blew a faceful of dust into my eyes, and blinded my sight for a few moments. Footsteps, the pace slow and enjoyable...

"I thought no one was suppose to wander?" I breathed, turning towards the figure that came strutting towards me, a sad smiling playing on her lips, the breeze causing her mass of wild curls to bounce.

"And here you are on a suicidal mission, safety is obviously what we're both after," River shook her head sarcastically, walking up next to me.

"How did you find out?" I murmured, looking the archaeologist in the eyes.

"I got bored," River smiled more genuinely, and yet a sadness still lingered in her pupils."You're phone was quite a nice challenge to hack."

"You managed it?" I questioned, losing the lovely ease with her, that we had gone along with this entire time.

"Yes, but that's not important-half of that stuff I already knew anyway," River brushed off, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Irene, while you were resting, I took the TARDIS to find Kate. She's dead. I'm so, so sorry..."

"Dead," The word echoed in my head, my heart's beat throbbing through my head like some continuous gunshot. My life had always been having sex for a living, seducing the well known, being naughty. But I had always had Kate, no matter who there was-even Sherlock-I had always come back to the lovely lass. Because the horribly awful heartbreaking thing that made the world swerve around me as I stumbled back wasn't that I had always her Kate, it was that Kate had always had me. And she had died alone, in the hands of Moriarty, while I was dancing along to his tune for far too... too... she was gone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Yeah, I've sucked at updating on time, and I can never stop apologizing for it. But on the bright side, I finished actually writing it, so unless the world ends, I have no future excuse. And I know this isn't my normal update day, but my Beta was out of town/communication for the week, so I didn't want to upload it without some editing. Okay, I'm going to shut up now, enjoy!**

**Point of View:** Molly Hooper

* * *

"Tea?" I offered, sitting down next to Rory on the couch in the living room. Everyone was gathered, the happiness waxing, the Time Lords and consulting detectives sitting thoughtfully across the room.

"Thanks," Rory muttered, gratefully taking the mug from my outstretched fingertips.

"I'm really sorry about your wife," I whispered, sighing deeply and biting my lip. I probably shouldn't even mention it, remind him-but doubtlessly it was already on his mind. "It's awful."

"Thank you," Rory repeated himself, taking a breath that rattled in the effort to keep from completely breaking down. "I just... I can't even digest that she's gone. I suppose that's always been a possibility for traveling with the Doctor. But..." His voice died off, we both knew he didn't need to say anything else. I understood.

"We can't just sit here and do nothing!" Donna suddenly exclaimed, breaking the silence, putting a hand on her hip, and practically standing up in her anger. "I get that people are dying because we're doing this, but what else can we do?"

"Cut the head off the snake," Sherlock murmured, crouching on the edge of his chair, his hands folded underneath his chin.

"Kill Moriarty?" Nine interpreted.

"Obviously," Sherlock agreed, continuing to think in his position.

"But we will have to do it quickly, and yet seem like we're still going along with his game," Twelve pointed out, nearly in the same exact position as Sherlock. "He will always have the advantage unless we can somehow take the god code away from him. You know he's immortal at this point?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, looking around incredulously. "Well the solution to that's obvious. Really? No one? I thought for once I actually had company with brains."

"Eh-hum, Sherlock," John muttered pointedly, clearing his throat.

Sherlock glanced at his distractedly. "Well obviously we solve the god code ourselves, fight fire with fire, erase him before he erases us."

Nine snorted with laughter in the corner, raising his eyebrows. "Solve the god code quick enough and carefully enough that the already god-like being doesn't detect us? No one could pull that off."

"You have another idea, oh 'fantastic!'" Sherlock muttered with false enthusiasm sulking at every word. "Do tell, because everyone would be delighted to hear a more doable solution."

Nine rolled his eyes at Sherlock's usual rudeness.

"If there's any possible chance of someone succeeding with our pressure, it would be us," Sherlock reminded us. "Three Time Lord geniuses and I should have a better chance at solving anything then Moriarty alone. So Doctor, what are we going to need?"

"Actually," A slow, weary grin spread across Eleven's face. "If we could get back to London in 1882, we could get everything we need"

"Ah yes, indeed," Twelve interjecting, but he didn't even come close to smiling. Lately the usual cheerfulness that set him apart from the real Sherlock had dissipated, leaving a Time Lord almost as cold and bitter as the consulting detective. It was Amy's death-it had to be.

"You would be needing some coordinates sweetie, correct?" River asked, walking into the room with Irene at her side. But even though the Time Lord has her usual charming smile about her, Irene seemed downright gloomy, which was a very alien look on her. River's arm, looped around Irene's shoulder comfortingly, almost seemed to be what was holding her up. "Irene's got them."

Irene didn't even attempt a smile to please the hopeful cowed, but just gazed bitterly around at them all. "I know a shortcut, but we'll have to seal one more crack to get us there. One of Moriarty's clever tricks."

"Then that's settled," Eleven claps his hands together, grinning at Irene and his wife. But he's the only one who even attempts a smile, but that was his remarkable ability, to be the light even in the darkest of times.

"Rory," I whispered, not wanting to give him any sort of false hope as we all gathered our belongings up. "That might mean that we can bring everyone back."

Rory just nodded, the slightest trace of a smile on his face, as he bit back tears. Rory without Amy seemed like a fish out of water-or more realistically, a duck without a Pond.

My gaze fell to Twelve, and the very frightening thing was that I've seen the look on his face before. It was such a sad pout, his eyes narrowed in a calculating manner, but that's all he really uses to reveal the knowledge he had kept up inside. The one time I had seen that look before, was before Sherlock had jumped off Saint Barts. Twelve knew he was going to die.


	17. Chapter 17

**Okay, wow yeah, sorry, someone reviewed pointing out that I totally blanked and updated last week with the same chapter as before. I hope uploading two chapters will make up for that. This chapter is actually my favorite of the entire fic. There's some original!Holmes tied in here along with lots of Johnlock.**

**Point of view: **John Watson (from Torchwood/Pocket Watch)

* * *

As we stepped out of the TARDIS, I couldn't help but shiver from the frost flakes that cascaded down from the sky-my jumper wasn't nearly enough to shield me from the swirling cold. Barely, as though he was a looming shadow, I felt Sherlock's presence behind me as he stepped out from the TARDIS. Without saying anything, he draped his precious trench coat around my shoulders, the soft cloth already warm from it's constant use.

"Sherlock-" I started, taken aback by his offer. I suppose he was Sherlock-but not my Sherlock, my Sherlock wasn't even real. But this one was, and he had lost his John-No, I had to stop thinking like that, I had taught myself not to dawdle on what I had had with Sherlock. And yet, Twelves voice still echoed in my head... Sherlock never got the chance to thank you, but he's in here, and would want you to know that you, John Watson, meant the world to him.

"You were cold," Sherlock simply shrugged, almost stiff as he stood beside me. "It does seem like a chillier place, and back into the Victorian era I see."

"Is it?" I piped up, comfortable with just the two of us as the others prepared inside. In a way, I couldn't help but feel like this conversation was Sherlock's way of accepting me in as the John that he knew. "I suppose so, the lack of people doesn't help the impression."

Sherlock quirked a lopsided smile at my usual ignorance to how apparently simple his deduction was. We were alone, completely utterly alone.

I gazed up into his face, his shifting mixture of blues and greens that managed to contain itself in the bright, intelligent gaze of Sherlock Holmes. Just then, in that perfect, flawless moment in the rain, with just the two of us, I had the sudden urge to reach up on tiptoes and kiss him. A voice in the back of my head uttered the single phrase 'you're not gay!' but that didn't seem to matter, whether I identified as straight or gay or bi... right now, in this moment, I just knew that I loved him, and that's all that mattered in that category.

"You're pupils are dilated," Sherlock noted quietly, he reached forward, his hand catching my wrist, the fingers pausing for a moment. "You're pulse has exhilarating."

I let loose a single, incredulous laugh. Because it was true, and all of it felt completely utterly right. As I stood there in the downpour, what caused my heart to leap, was that as I looked up into his eyes, the pupils were just as dilated. "I'm not the only one."

Just like that, in a sweeping motion he bent down and kissed me on the lips, in a graceful arch. For a flickering moment, he slightly picked me off my feet as he bent down. None of it was long, but extreamly satifying. Brilliant; amazing. But this time, I couldn't even utter my one worded responses, just stood there speechless.

"Do you hear violin music," Sherlock suddenly asked, a smirk still in place. "Coming?"

"Oh god, yes," I murmured into the freezing air, my breath coming up in puffs of smoke. And without another word, the two of us set out into the streets that were already paling as dusk set upon us. Just this once, it was like I really was back with Sherlock, flatmates at 221B, a new disappearance or murder causing springs in Sherlock's step, the rush of adrenaline welcoming my addiction to the chaos of war. Of course, I was no expert of deduction like the man beside me, but I could have sworn that Sherlock felt the same way. And of course, there was much more there to, sch unpressable excitement that quivered in the air, and as we walked, I noticed Sherlock slightly bite his lip to contain the smile that always came about during a particularly intresting case.

As we kept going, the violin music grew louder, until we spotted two men up the street. One of them was wearing a splendid hat that resemble Sherlock's 'boffin' hat, while playing a violin, in the middle of the falling snow. The other had a slightly ridiculous mustache, who looked positively agitated by the fellow next to him.

"Odd that there are no people, isn't it Dr. Watson?" questioned the first man with the violin, a delighted smile pronouncing upon his lips.

"Really Holmes, is this necessary?" The man who was apparently also Dr. Watson, sighed.

"Sherlock?" I questioned, glancing up at the Holms that I knew. "They can't possibly be...?"

Sherlock's eyes were narrowed underneath his dark locks. He stepped forward, clearing his throat slightly. "Mr Holmes, Dr. Watson, perhaps I could explain the predicament?"

"You're not of this world," Mr. Holmes nodded his head in a friendly greeting. "Neither of you are. Relax Dr. Watson, they mean no harm."

To my surprise, the man beside him shifted so he was no longer feeling the familiar hilt of his gun. Absent mindedly, I found myself doing the same thing. Meanwhile both the Holmes smirked at each other.

"What would the date be?" Sherlock asked, with surprising politeness on his part.

"1882," Holmes replied, a charming crisp edge to his voice that somehow came out as friendly. "And you and your partner would be?"

"Hold on, but how do you know we're together?" I questioned, smiling at them. The unspoken idea was still so fresh to me.

"Of course you are, it's elementary," Holmes replied, his smirk becoming even larger, into a real smile. "I'm sure even Watson can tell. I mean, that's obviously not your coat, and I doubt your partner would forget the proper clothing at home-obviously much too clever for that. I won't pretend it wasn't telling that you both just flushed bright red."

Sherlock's smirk also grew at Holmes's deduction.

"Sherlock and John," I replied, holding out my hand in greeting, which both men energetically took.

"By Jove, really?" Dr. Watson gaped, his eyes growing wide. "As is our names. What a strange coincidence that is?"

"Yes it is," Holmes whispered, looking the two of us up and down. "Now do tell, how have you two managed to lurk about after everyone else has vanished?"

Just then, Eleven came sprinting up from behind us. "Ah, there you two are! Hello Holmes, Watson! Pleasure to meet you both again."

"Doctor!" Holmes straight out grinned. "Are these two friends of yours."

"Ah yes," Eleven laughed. "And I suppose this just makes everything so complicated again!"

"In theory," Sherlock responded quietly.

"Ah yes, but proper introductions," Eleven rubbed his hands together, ignoring the rest of the group that was pouring out behind us. "You see, both pairs of you are Sherlock Holmes and John Watson; two parallel universes, one set from the past, the other from the future. It's all timey-wimey."

"That explains everything," The other Watson chuckled, nodding at us all happily.

"Nearly," Holmes disagreed, glancing between Eleven, Sherlock, the rest of our group, and me. "You wouldn't all be here unless there was something supernaturaly wrong."

"Ah yes, good man Holmes," Eleven chucked, grinning from ear to ear. "There is some sort of mystery scattered about the area, we need to solve it to fix a crack in time and space. Well, and as you might have noticed, the entire reality is completely splintered. Because of their-" He pointed to Sherlock and I "-Moriarty."

"Well then that does explain everything!" Watson almost seemed to be questioning his own opinion on the matter.

"Nearly," Sherlock murmured, chuckling softly. "You two knew to be waiting for us out here. How come?"

"It was a simple matter of this note," Holmes explained, his fingers flickering in and out of his pocket, as he grasped a small card-sort of like what I pictured a calling card to be like; a rectangle of thick paper, fancy lettering spelling some sort of message in golden ink.

"The case will be at coordinates 203-14534-293. Expect visitors," I read allowed, after Holmes had handed it to us.

"Ah, for the TARDIS," River nodded appreciatively. "What are we waiting for then?"

"Right, yes," Twelve breathed, snatching the piece of paper from my hands, and turning away from where we came. "Coming?"

Holmes and Watson made to come with us, as we headed back to the TARDIS.

"I wouldn't come if I were you," I warned them, unwilling to say goodbye to the old fashion versions of us. "There's a great chance either of you will drop dead just because we solved it."

"They won't," Twelve assured us, not turning around, as he plotted onwards.

"Because?" I attempted to ask, but there was no response. "Well, I suppose he knows more about this than I do." I shrugged, rolling my eyes.

"I know the feeling," Watson chuckled good naturedly, as they followed along.

* * *

"This is it?" Ianto asked, incredulasly.

"This is it," Nine assured us.

"No, I think perhaps we have the coordinates wrong," Twelve muttered apprehensively, his voice containing a strange edge.

Nodding, I turned around to go back into the TARDIS. But as I turned, my eyes flickered to Dean, who was surging forward, paying no heed to Twelve.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dean muttered, his voice dangerously low. He was knelt down in one of the large shadows that blanketed the floor, his hands reached down, out of sight. Slowly, he stood back up. In his hands was a mass of flesh and blood, torn up and patched together.

"Oh gross," Mickey wrinkled up his nose, pretending to throw up. "What is that?"

"The sheaded skin of a skinwalker," Dean announced, his eyes cast warily about us all. "The same damn thing that killed my brother. It's a shapeshifter, if you will. And it's probably playing as one of us, right now."

"Who?" I asked stupidly, my gaze shifting around me to stare at all my friends.

"Now that is elementary," Sherlock scoffed, no longer smiling. "Why were you so ready to leave, Twelve?"

Before any of us could even think, before Twelve could explain what was going on, or we could even gasp in horror, a bang split the air. Twelve fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, and Dean Winchester pocketed his gun.

"Agreed," Holmes nodded in appreciation to his deduction. Even as he spoke, I watched the cover of Twelve, shrivel and die around the skinwalker.

"Hold on, does that mean-" I muttered in horror, kneeling beside who I thought had been my Sherlock-the version that had known about the solar system.

"I'm sorry John," Sherlock murmured, kneeling down beside me. "Twelve is dead."


	18. Chapter 18

**As I mentioned earlier, double update this week to make up for my fail last week. Also, my apologies for this chapter-it was suppose to be this epic battle but, mah, just wouldn't turn out. I hope you enjoy anyway.**

**Point of view: **River Song

* * *

Perhaps it was too suspicious that we had hardly made a move in months. Maybe Moriarty would get bored and start killing us off, one by one... But what it really came down to was; were there really any other choices at this point? Sure, we could play into his hand and let everyone of us die off. But where's the fun in that?

"We're doing it," Nine murmured next to me, squinting at the computer screen in front of him. We had gathered out necessary supplies together, in a circle, as we all attempted to crack the incredible code. "This is actually working."

"There we go, big ears!" Jack rolled over on his rollable chair, laughing, and clapping a hand around his shoulder. "Now how about that drink!"

"If you buy it," Nine teased, snorting.

Ianto sighed over in the corner, where he had his own laptop hooked up to the computer. "Come on, we're not quite there." Perhaps he should be jelouse of Jack's obvious obsession with the Doctor-Maybe I should, he is after all, my future husband-but I suppose we were both so use to Jack flirting and people being infatuated with the Doctor, that we mostly just ignored it.

"He'll notice instantly," Sherlock was saying under his breath, as he continued furiously typing. "We have to immediately delete him. He will simply want to take advantage of the new level of the game unless we do so.

"And then we need to destory the code," Rory insisted, his voice shaking as the words spurted from his mouth. "No one should ever have the ability to... to mold everything in there hands... to make someone go insane because of a sick game."

Molly nodded beside him, pulling him into a comforting hug.

Irene's eyes darted up from her own screen, for only a second. "And why not use this power to finally shape the world into something good? It doesn't have to be such a curse, it can-"

"No," Castiel inturrupted, to everyone's surprise. His eyes narrowed, he watched Irene threateningly. "You don't know how poisening even a taste of such power is. Being a god is not something to crack, but to choose you. Total power is not something that can ever be used for complete good."

"Well yes," Eleven said, stretching his fingers for a fraction of a second. "But on the other end of things, the universe is completely screwed up. We should delete the god code as soon as we put things back to how they were before this entire ordeal?"

"And everyone will be brought back to life?" Carolyn snapped into the response of murmurs and nods to his statement. "I'd assume?"

"Yes, I do believe that we'll be able to do that," Nine mended, continuing his work with all the other geniuses. "We can bring everything back to how it use to be."

"What if we don't want it to return to normal, not completely at least," John asked hestitantly.

"Well obviously we don't have to fix that part," Sherlock muttered, exchanging a long, intense, look with John. Something had happened out in the rain.

"Here we go. Everyone ready?" Eleven announced, taking a deep breath. "Alright, let's do this thing."

My eyes glued to the screen, I watched the green letters unfold into the complicated code. Suddenly my mind exploded with information, the letter stained into my brain. Everything seemed to flow in at once, every name of everything that existed, every planet, every instance of time at every place. But bracing myself against the on coming storm. I needed to concentrate. My very being attempting to think about erasing Moriarty, I molded the thought through the millions of databases running through my head, until-

"He's gone," Sherlock swallowed, his eyes focused on the ceiling, transfixed. "Vanished from existence."

Even without any of saying anything, I began to feel my mind clear, as the splintered realities reconected into place, with everyone's intense focus. Everything was going back to how is should be.


	19. Chapter 19

**Sorry for the few day delay, the holiday season and flying on aeroplanes got in the way. Thank you so much for all of the support and to all the readers who managed to hang onto this confusing fic. In the long run I was very disapointed in how awfuly done it turned out-my fault entirely of course-so I hope you all enjoyed it anyway. Also just a sidenote, even if ten million people commented saying that this should have a sequal, I wouldn't come near it with a ten foot pole, so I'm sorry if that was anyone's wish. On the bright side, now I can focus on simpler, better done stories. Goodbye, and thanks for all the fish.**

**Point of View: **John Watson

* * *

The end of our long, stressful, mass killing, brilliant, adventure was over; we were almost home. After all this time, the dead had been resurrected, and everyone was going there separate ways. Jack and Ianto were being dropped off at the hub, and they teetered on the doorstep in hesitance.

"You're absolutely sure about this?" Jack prompted for the ninth time since we were heading back. "You can always change your mind."

"Positive," I smiled sadly at him, attempting to shake his hand in farewell, before he pulled me into a bear hug. "I had to stay away from London after Sherlock left... but now, he's back, and London couldn't stay away from me if it tried. Thank you for all you've done for me, really."

"Naw, I was being selfish, we always had needed such a skilled Doc," Jack winked, grinning at me. "And you're not fired by the the way, either. London has plenty of alien activity, I'm sure you and Sherlock will be plenty busy. And if there's something big I'm going to have to pull you in, alright?"

"Sounds like a plan," I grinned back, finally stepping away from his tight embrace. "I'm not vanishing forever, after all."

Jack stepped out into the sunny, city streets, his gaze still fixed on me.

"I'm going to miss you, no more morning coffee sessions," Ianto murmured, pulling me into a hug as well, patting me on the back. "Take care, alright?"

"Oh you can do those without me," I laughed quietly, shaking my head and hugging him back. "I'll miss you too, Ianto."

"I would just miss you too much," Ianto shook his head, a smile on his lips that were just as sad as my own. "But it's not the end, right?"

"Right," I assured him, patting his back, as I came up from our hug. "We'll be hunting reavers together before you know it."

"Goodbye, John Watson," Ianto sighed, looking me in the eye with those kind, blue pupils. "I'll see you as soon as the world starts to end again."

"Yeah, goodbye," I responded, finding myself tearing up at the idea of leaving Jack and Ianto. But I was going back with Sherlock, back how it use to be-well, nearly-with one large difference that should have happened a long time ago. This was the beginning of something new, completely insane and uncontrollable. I was the personal blogger and boyfriend of the world's only consulting detective, the doctor of an alien agency, that was working across the country from my group, and somehow it managed to be a letdown in terms of confusion.


End file.
